


Ordinary

by Kazzy



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-16
Updated: 2006-09-16
Packaged: 2017-10-11 21:06:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kazzy/pseuds/Kazzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Tylers  are pretty normal. However, nothing is as it seems. Why does the  Doctor remember the names of people he's never met? Why does Rose  keep forgetting her mother is dead? And just how does their mechanic  come into it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Spoilers –** Parting of the Ways; possibly Children in Need and The Christmas Invasion, but not overtly.  
>  **Disclaimer –** I can't claim to own any of these characters. I do love them though. So, I'm borrowing them. Oh and I can't claim to own Calvin and Hobbes either.
> 
>  **Notes –** I got the idea from a Calvin and Hobbes cartoon. I couldn't help it.

**Prologue**

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Rose Tyler had been married to her husband Dr. Thierry Tyler for just under two years. And despite the difference between them, it had been a good two years.

Rose was a floor supervisor at a local department store. Thierry, or 'the Doctor' as most people called him, was a professor of physics at university. He was also involved in some advanced experiments, which Rose didn't completely understand, but had something to do with time. Their careers were very different, but neither Rose nor the Doctor minded. She teased him about his 'nerdy' profession – and his stodgy dress sense – he teased her about being too fashion conscious. But at the end of the day they had each other to come home to and that was all that mattered.

The Doctor was a good bit older than Rose – thirteen years – and she knew that her parents would never have approved. Was sure that if her mother were alive, she'd have a word to or two to say on the matter – Jackie Tyler always did. However, the Doctor had a manic energy, but gave him the appearance of being so much younger. Rose sometimes teased him about the age gap, asked him what it said about an old man who married a girl so young, but he always turned serious, saying it said more about her. The words warmed her, because she knew he was so much more intelligent than her, but he rarely held his knowledge over her, instead treating her like an equal, like her opinion mattered. She appreciated that.

The two really were the perfect match, and Rose couldn't image ever being happy with anyone else. She had everything she wanted right here.

That is, if she ignored the vague sense of there being something else she was meant to do with her life.

 **Chapter One**

-x-x-x-

On Wednesday Rose caught the bus to work as the Doctor's car was at the mechanics and it was easier for her to get to work than it was for the Doctor to get to the University via public transport. She kissed her husband goodbye as he distractedly ate his cornflakes and scribbled something in his notebook, grabbed her bag and headed out the door, grumbling only a little because it was half an hour earlier than normal.

After work, she headed over to the mechanic's to pick up the car. It was a new place, but apparently the guy there was really good with cars, fixing them quickly, if charging slightly higher than anywhere else. The Doctor had dropped the car off the day before, and had come home frowning. He said he wasn't sure they could trust the mechanic, that the guy seemed shady. Rose had shaken off the comment, though. The Doctor didn't like anyone touching his baby other than him. He was actually a fairly deft hand at fixing her, but sadly often lacked the time. However Rose felt better if their cars were fixed by a professional, as there was less chance of something going wrong then. The Doctor pointed out that a bit of flash didn't necessary mean the job was done right. Rose pointed out that sometimes having the right tools did actually work.

The discussion had degenerated into an argument, which had only ended when Rose had reminded the Doctor of the last time he'd tried to fix the car, which had actually resulted in a minor crash. The Doctor had gone off to sulk for half an hour, but had still cooked her a delicious curry for dinner.

At the mechanic's, the place seemed deserted, at least outwardly. The main room was nicer than she would have expected, cleaner, tidier. The furniture – a wooden reception area and a comfy couch – was warm and welcoming. No one was waiting at the front desk, though, which was a little odd. Rose couldn't see anyone, at all, and the set up prevented her from seeing into the workshop for her husband's car. Frowning, she rang the bell on the front desk several times before a figure strode into the room. She couldn't quite keep her jaw from dropping. The guy was gorgeous. He grinned at her, and happily married, all needs fulfilled or not, Rose felt herself melt.

He gripped her hand warmly in his own, keeping his eyes on her face at all times. "Hey there. Jack Harkness. How can I help you this afternoon?"

"Uh…h-hello." Rose stammered, then warned herself to get together: she was _married_. "I'm Rose Tyler. My h-husband, Doctor Tyler, dropped our car off yesterday?" Good lord, could she sound any more adolescent? She sounded like she was talking to the cute guy that she had a crush on.

"Sure," Jack Harkness was still smiling broadly, and standing a little too close. Apparently not noticing the way she was acting. "Right this way." He stood back a little and indicated the door he'd come through. Rose stepped forward, but couldn't avoid brushing against him, he was standing so close.

"She's a beauty," Harkness said as he followed Rose into the main body of he shop. For a heartbeat, she had the feeling he wasn't talking about the Doctor's car. She could only hope that the shiver that ran up her spine was not outwardly obvious.

Yes, she was attracted to this guy. Who wouldn't be? He was good-looking, friendly, and given half a chance she suspected he'd be utterly charming too. That meant little, Rose thought all that and more of her husband. However, it was more than that, there was something she couldn't put her finger on. It was almost a sense of familiarity, as if she'd met this man before, and yet she knew she'd remember something like that. Someone like him.

"Sorry?" she asked.

"Your husband's car," he rolled the word _husband_ around in his mouth, as if it amused him. Rose rolled her eyes and barely contained a snicker. Most of the time she'd shoot down any guy who tried to hit on her – she was a one-man woman – and she couldn't be bothered pandering fragile egos. Jack provoked no such reaction in her.

"You must have the wrong car. The Doctor's car is a bomb. She never works right. Half the time I'm surprised she even starts."

"That's what I thought at first," Harkness admitted. "Then I took a look inside. You don't see workmanship like that anymore. She's a very special lady. Just like her owner." He topped that one off with another grin that made her insides melt, but also made her roll her eyes again.

"Oi! Didn't we just discuss that part where I was married?" she snapped, more amused than anything.

"Ah, tie down a soul like you. Never!" he laughed. "Though, I supposed your attention might just be caught by someone that good-looking. It's a pity."

"Why because you aren't getting any?" she asked surprised at herself. She generally wasn't that forward with anyone, especially not someone she'd known less than ten minutes.

"Yes. There are two less available beautiful people in the world." He meant it, too. Harkness genuinely seemed disappointed that both herself and the Doctor were taken. "Come away with me," he said suddenly, his eyes teasing.

Rose couldn't help laughing at that one. "Married, remember!"

"Bring him too." Jack's smirk was becoming almost impossibly wide as Rose laughed harder.

"What both of us?"

He caught her hand. "Absolutely. Three beautiful people travelling the world together. What could be more enticing than that?" He held her eyes in his.

Though Rose didn't think for one second he was the slightest bit serious, she couldn't help but admit that it was an attractive idea. Maybe she should suggest to the Doctor they should go travelling. An exotic holiday would be nice, an adventure. Rose had never had much of a chance for travel, and now she found herself wanting it madly, irrationally.

Then Jack Harkness brought her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. No one, not even the Doctor, had ever done that. It should have been the pinnacle on the top of Harkness' games, but strangely it wasn't. The gesture was entirely intimate, and Rose felt her heart stop icily. Given the opportunity, Rose sensed, this man would sleep with her, but that wasn't his intent, and without knowing why, she did know that.

In his eyes, something caught and held her, kept her captive for long moments. He was no less trapped than her though: she could see his shock at the deeper connection, the recognition. _I know you!_ For a fraction of a second, Rose thought she knew the answer to the great puzzle.

"Rose…" he whispered.

Then it all snapped. Harkness, with Rose's hand still trapped in his, raised an eyebrow in a very flirtatious, sensual manner. "My lady," he grinned, as if nothing had happened, "your chariot."

And there was her husband's car, looking like it's same as always. A beaten up, yet well-loved vehicle. Rose patted the vehicle lightly, and the paint was uneven under her fingers. Faintly, she noticed that Harkness had let go over her hand.

"That's her!" she said cheerfully, covering over anything that might have happened in the last few minutes.

"Great!" said Harkness. "I'll have someone bring her round, if you want to come and fill in that nasty business of paper work." He didn't quite meet her eyes and Rose wondered why. What had he seen earlier? What had she seen? But it was madness, so she put the issue out of her mind and focussed on the business of an ordinary life.

"Sure," she said, checking for purse and finding it tucked at the bottom of her handbag.

Harkness flirted with her all the way back to reception and as she signed the forms and paid him his fee. She flirted right back, enjoying herself. Any trace of the second back in the garage seemed to have been forgotten, for which Rose was grateful. She couldn't explain it, and didn't want to think about what it meant.

"Is that all?" she asked, once she'd signed the credit card slip. Her signature was big and loopy as it had always been. She'd been a Tyler all her life, and hadn't changed her name when she married, so she hadn't had to change her signature either. She couldn't imagine having to use the Doctor's surname (his maiden name!) in a signature.

"Well, you could give me a kiss to seal the deal," Harkness told her, grinning widely. Her heart thudded lightly, as if she remembered what kissing him on the lips was like, but that was silly.

"You've had your kiss," she waved her hand at him, making a blind attempt at humour. When he just laughed, so she assumed she'd been successful. Rose's smile returned warmly in response.

She left the mechanic's feeling strangely buoyant, as if she'd accidentally bumped into an old friend, and spent the afternoon catching up. Again, she had no explanation for it. She had not met Jack Harkness before, as she was sure she'd remember him and his _friendly_ personality. Yet she could have sworn she'd known him for a long time.

-x-x-x-

The Doctor would be late home that night as he had some experiments that needed conducting, and were fairly time sensitive. So Rose fixed herself a quick meal and settled down in front of the television for the evening. She was idly flicking through the channels when her husband arrived.

At some point he'd removed his tie and unbuttoned his collar and jacket. The latter he slid of he shoulders and tossed on to an armchair. His hair was even more rumpled than usual meaning that either the wind had sprung up suddenly and violently when she wasn't looking, or he'd been particularly bored during the day and run his hands through it numerous times. Whatever, he looked good.

"Hey," she said warmly in greeting, briefly suppressing the urge to jump on him. "Good day?"

"Reasonable, fairly pointless, and completely boring," he told her, then settled down with her on the couch, wrapping her in his arms, her back to his chest. "Better now."

She snuggled into him, and angled herself up for a kiss, which he gave her willingly. His lips were warm and familiar, but made her toes curl. He slid a hand under her shirt to rest against her skin, and she ran her fingers through his hair, if possible making it even messier. They broke for air, and settled back against the couch, but he left his hand resting on her stomach, hers over lying on top.

"Anything good on telly?" he asked, his voice soft in her ear, making her shiver. Even if there had been something on, she probably would have denied it.

"Nothing. It's all repeats and reality junk." For no reason she'd ever been able to put her finger on, Rose had never liked reality TV. It gave her the creeps, and the Doctor agreed. He said there was something not quite right about people who willingly chose to put themselves through pain and deprivation just to have a small chance at some rather meaningless prize. Disturbing.

"How were the experiments?" she asked, switching off the box now that a more interesting entertainment had arrived home. Yes, she knew what he wanted, and she found the concept just as appealing. But she was happy where she was, and didn't feel inclined to move just yet.

When he spoke, she could hear the frown in his voice. "As expected, our results mirrored the last batch, confirming them. There is absolutely nothing to doubt now – all we have to do is figure out what it all means. And it must mean something." The Doctor and his assistants were at the phase where they'd conducted the initial experiments, and were now repeating them to see if they could duplicate the information. While Rose knew her husband was meticulous at all stages of his study, she also knew he thrived on the thrill of discovery. Now that he had found out what he wanted to know, his interest was waning slightly as he checked and rechecked everything.

"Well, that's good, isn't it?" Rose asked, trying to prompt some enthusiasm out of him.

"Yes," he sighed, "it's good."

"But you're bored out of your skull," she said for him.

"Alas," he said, "you know me too well." He kissed her temple, and she could feel a little of his frustration flow out of him. "I just dislike this part of the study. I know it is important, but doesn't mean I have to enjoy it! But leaving it to someone else would be irresponsible, and possibly dangerous, at the very least misleading. No," he murmured softly, "not at all responsible."

"And you're always responsible."

"Ye—" he was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn't immediately catch on to her teasing. "Why you little monkey!" he said when she started laughing at him.

"Gotchya!" she cried.

"No," he said in a deep voice that she felt through her entire body to the very tips. "I've got you!" His grip shifted on her waist to her sides, where he began to tickle her until she begged for mercy.

By the time she let her go, she was breathless in his arms, laughing helplessly. "Are you going to be more respectful now?" he asked in the same tone of voice.

"Of you?" she asked as innocently as she could, still trying to keep from giggling.

He attacked again, and Rose was a helpless squirming mass in his arms. "All right! All right! I promise to be more respectful!" she gasped through the tears of laughter streaming down her face.

"Good, because you know they put that in the wedding vows. To love honour and obey, which is the same thing. You should remember that Rose, you it wasn't that long ago and you are still young with a good memory," he said, sounding far too self-satisfied, but an edge of laughter had crept into his voice, so she let it pass – for the moment. _Later_ , she reminded herself, _there's always_ later _to get my revenge._

She turned in his arms, so she was resting forwards on his chest, her forehead resting on his shoulder. She linked one hand through his, and he wrapped his other back around her waist. They stayed that way for long moments, enjoying each other's company.

"Y'know," Rose said after a while.

"Mmmm?" he asked.

"I was thinking today—"

"Good habit to get into that," the Doctor said with an air of sanctimony. Rose pinched him with her free hand, making him yelp.

"As I was saying, I was thinking today about going on holiday. I mean we haven't had a holiday since our honeymoon. Wouldn't it be nice to get away?"

"Yeah," he agreed, "but to where?"

"I don't know, somewhere exotic, somewhere new and exciting to explore."

"There are lots of places like that in the world, can you narrow it down a bit. A general area, perhaps a type of terrain…"

"All of them?" Beaches, mountains, forests, deserts. Now that she was thinking about it, there were so many places that she wanted to see, to explore. There was no way she'd be able to do them all in one life time, but she had every intention of trying.

"All of them!" he spluttered. "Rose the world is a big place, enormous even. It would take a long time – and a lot of money to explore it all."

"So?" she asked. Money they had. Time was a different kettle of fish, but it didn't have to be. "You've said yourself that this current round of experiments is nearly at an end. We could go then. I just… I always wanted to travel. Was going to, but then I met you – and that was _good_ , the best thing that ever happened to me – and we got married. Then you were busy with your students and your experiments and I was busy with work. I didn't regret that either. But one day we're going to have kids, and that'll be another reason not to go, and if we don't go soon, I get the feeling we never will…" she trailed off, flushing slightly at the words that had tumbled out of her. Never had she realised how much this meant to her.

"Oh, Rose," he sighed, but didn't say anything else for a long time. Rose just leaned against him, listening the sound of his heartbeat, strong and sure. "Okay," he said at long last.

Rose sat up and stared at him. "Okay?" she asked, stunned.

The Doctor reached out a hand, and laid it gently on the side of her face. "Yes. Okay. Let's go!" he gave her one of those brilliant smiles she loved. "We're off! There's so much to see! You're right, we can't sit here for the rest of our lives, growing old and rusty!"

"You mean it?" she asked, incredulously, but with joy creeping in.

With one of the lightning fast mood changes that so characterised her husband, the manic glee slipped off his face and melted into seriousness. "Of course, I mean it. This is important to you Rose. I knew when I married you that you wanted to travel, and I always thought that we would – later. And yet here we are, still in the same place. That wasn't fair for you."

"I didn't mean…"

He pressed a finger to her lips. "I know, but it's the truth. And this isn't just about you, Rose. I think it's high time I did something before I turn into one of those musty old professors with no idea what the real world is like, haunting the halls, glaring at students for being young. Of course I do that now, but that's mostly because some of them really are stupid. But that's not the point is it? The point is getting out – of not being here anymore."

She looked into his eyes to judge his seriousness, and he looked back with a fathomless gaze. "So we're going? Just like that?"

"Just like that," he confirmed, pressing a brief kiss to her lips. "What fun," he mused as she settled back against him, still slightly in shock. "The two of us off to have an adventure! Off to see every corner of the world! We won't miss a thing!"

Rose couldn't help the joyous smile that spread across her face in response.

"Not that I don't appreciate the decision they brought us to, but what brought this on?" the Doctor asked her curiously.

"Our new mechanic."

"Jack Harkness?"

"That's the one. Of course he was suggesting that the three of us run off together, but it got me thinking about it all." She frowned in thought, wondering where they could go first.

"Our mechanic wanted to run away together?" the Doctor had a different set of concerns.

"Yes. The three of us, into the sunset." Her husband had always been oddly possessive, and every now and then she liked to needle him. "I liked him."

"Really, Rose, he flirted with me the whole time I was there – and with you, by the sound of it!"

She laughed; he never failed to disappoint. He'd come a long way, though. At the beginning of their relationship, it had been all she could do to keep him from growling at any male who came into her radius, or looked her way, or spoke to her, or was in the room at the time. He'd mellowed with time, and Rose had learned to live with his reactions, and even have fun with them occasionally. It could even be a turn on at times.

"Oh come on, Doctor, he can't be that bad. Just a bit of fun. Not everyday a man tells me I'm beautiful like that." She was winding him up good; she could see that. Just a little more. "Of course he seemed to keep forgetting we were married."

That did it. Rose squealed as she found herself on her back staring up at the Doctor. He growled, deep in his throat, and she had to bite back a moan at the darkly possessive look in his eyes. Two years and it still never failed to get to her that look. "You are mine, Rose Tyler – and don't you forget it."

The kiss he gave her was ringing with all the possessiveness and passion she'd come to expect. Rose pressed herself up to meet it, tangling her tongue with his, arm around his waist holding his body close to hers. Heat flashed through her madly, and she pressed still closer. Like all things about her husband, she loved this in him. Outwardly, he might be the scientist, in brown pinstripes, studiously working at his obscure branch of physics, but inwardly… this man knew how to make her burn. As in all things, he was a consummate lover. She loved him, and would to the end of time.

When at last the heat of their ardour burned away, and they lay in each other's arms, heartbeats and breathing returning to normal, he whispered into her ear. "My beautiful Rose. I will love you to the end of time. You are my heart, my soul."

There was little she could say to that, but still, "I'm yours in all things, Doctor. I love you."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Four betas. Paranoid Seat, Eeveekitty, Syven and megoddess2. Thank you all.
> 
> Second, thanks to my readers. I love you too!

**Chapter Two**

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The Doctor woke early the next morning, as he usually did, but instead of climbing out of bed and getting ready for work as he normally would, he stayed beside his wife, looking down at her sleeping form. She really was a beautiful creature, and far more than a grumpy old man like him deserved.

Awake, she was vibrant and alive, all fire and colour. She gave as good as she got from him, and that had been one of the things that had attracted him to her right from the start. Never at any point had she let him talk down to her, despite the differences in age and in schooling. She challenged him at every point, and while it was frustrating at times, it kept him from becoming overbearing.

Like the night before, when she'd insisted on the travel. Alone, he never would have considered it. He might have entertained the idea, but not taken it seriously. He was far too busy, had far too many more important things that needed to be done. But with Rose, he had been unable to see why they shouldn't give up a year or two of their lives to travel the world. It would make her happy. It would make him happy, come to that.

Right now, she was sleeping peacefully, her face relaxed, making her appear even younger. She was only as old as some of his students, younger than many of them. Yet she had an age and wisdom that transcended that. He'd have a hard time find her level of maturity in the vast majority of his students, let alone in his peers.

Lightly, he brushed a strand of hair from her face, sighing. Today was her day off, and he didn't have a class until late. Often he would go in early - there was always something needed doing, but right now he had more pressing concerns on his mind. More so than his wife even.

Just lately he'd been bothered by a mystery, and the knowledge of by mysterious people. He woke up in the morning, not having dreamt, but with the names of various people and places on his mind and throughout the day he would garner more information on them. However, none of it fit with people he knew, nor could he find anyone who fit either the names or the situations.

This morning he woke up with the names Nyssa of Traken and Ace. What kind of names were those? Ace, Ace… no, Dorothy, but she liked to be called Ace for some reason or another. She liked…guns…no, explosives; yes, she even made her own. And Nyssa was a talented…surgeon?… No, bio-engineer?… No, that wasn't quite right… well, it would probably come to him during the day. It usually did.

Collecting his notebook off the bedside stand, he quickly scribbled a few notes on each of the two women. There were a good number of names in the book now, nearly twenty, and ten places and cultures. Most of the people were women, which was a little disturbing, and one of the reasons why he hadn't told his wife about it yet. If he didn't know what to make of it, what would Rose think?

There was no way he could explain anything in the book. Except, two mornings ago he'd woken up with another name: 'Captain Jack Harkness'. This hadn't meant anything until he'd taken his car in, and was greeted by a grinning mechanic, whose name was Jack Harkness. It had been the first time he'd come across anyone with one of the names, and it had been very unsettling.

 _Captain Jack Harkness. Friend. Con-artist. Time Agent. Amnesiac (?). Flirts with…(!) 51st Century. 1941. Barrage balloon. ~~Tulips~~ Chula. Nanogenes. Game Station (ref.). Helps with TARDIS (ref.)._

 _WHY IS HE MY MECHANIC?_

Something had hovered in Harkness' eyes too, like he recognised the Doctor but didn't know why.

"What are you doing?" asked a sleepy voice from beside him. Rose, with her fantastic bed hair, was waking up.

"Morning sleepy head," he said, placing the notebook and pen on the cabinet and looking back down at her as she blinked into wakefulness.

"Mmmm, morning, what were you doing?" Persistent. He always forgot to add that to her list of attributes.

"Just writing down a few thoughts, nothing important."

"About what?" Like a dog worrying a bone.

"This and that," he evaded, knowing that she would keep at him until he told her if she was in the right mood. Hopefully, he'd out-stubborn her on this one.

"Well, then," she said, sounding snarky, "if you're going to be like that…" She rolled over and pulled the covers over her head.

"Rose!" he said, exasperated. "Rose! Don't be like that." He followed her under the covers. "Rose?" No reaction. "Ro-ose?"

Suddenly they were wrestling, fighting for control, and Rose won, sitting astride his waist, hands on his shoulders, grinning down at him triumphantly. Well, she was certainly cheerful again, but he should have known better than to think she was completely distracted.

-x-x-x-

Their morning activities nearly made the Doctor late for work. He hurried to get ready, scolding Rose for being distracting. She lay back on their bed languidly, smiling unrepentantly. And so she should, the Doctor had been rather meticulous. She supposed it was to make up for being so secretive about his notebook and its contents.

After she heard him drive away, she slid out of bed and had a shower, dressed and had her morning cup of coffee and marmalade on toast. She stacked the last of the dishes into the dishwasher and put it on, wiped down the kitchen bench and took out the rubbish bin. In the main room, she straightened the couch cushions, put the newspapers out to recycle, and vacuumed the floor. Upstairs, she stripped the bed, and put the linen and some towels on to wash.

Thursdays were the only day these things got done. Rose had Sundays and Thursdays off from work. Sunday she usually spent with her husband. So she only had one day to clean. The Doctor did try to help out here and there, but he was fairly useless. If he folded the laundry, it ended up shoved haphazardly into cupboards and drawers. If he mopped the kitchen, the tiles just looked smeared. He did make an excellent curry, though, and wasn't a bad cook all-round. Plus, he could be counted on to keep the plumbing and electricity working smoothly, so Rose just generally left him to it, and did her share.

Before dashing out to do the shopping, she hung out the washing and put another wash load on. For lunch, she met a friend at a local café, and had a steak sandwich with Caesar dressing. When she was home again she picked up the phone to call her mum. It had been a while since they'd spoken, and her mother always got a little grumpy when Rose didn't call.

She lifted her hand to dial the number when she realised she had forgotten the number. Forgotten her mother's number? That was odd. Wracking her brain, she tried to come up with the number. With a sudden horrified realization, she abruptly hung up the receiver.

She couldn't remember her mother's number because her mother had been dead for years. Jackie Tyler had been killed in a car crash when Rose was seventeen.

Rose sat down with a thump on a kitchen chair, a hollow pit opening inside of her. Why had she forgotten that? One of the worst times of her life, that had been. Opening the door night to find a police lady standing there, a grim expression on her face. _I'm sorry, Ms. Tyler, but there's been an accident._ The dark days up to the funeral. Fighting with her aunt to be allowed to stay in her apartment. Dropping out of school, because in her grief she couldn't keep up with the work. How could she have possibly forgotten all _that_?

With shaking hands she picked up the phone and dialled a much more familiar number. Listening to the ring tone, she prayed he'd pick up, that he wasn't too busy right now.

"Hello?" said her husband, his voice reassuringly reaching down the line.

"Doctor?" she stammered, before bursting into tears.

"Rose?" She could hear the alarm in his tone, but couldn't say anything. "Rose, what's going on? Are you all right? Are you hurt?" She was crying too hard to answer, so she shook her head, forgetting that he wouldn't be able to see her. "I'm coming home," he said decisively when she couldn't form any words.

"No!" she finally managed, then took a few gasping breaths. "Don't. I'm sorry, I'm being silly. I just -"

"That's not like you. What happened? I should come home -"

"No!" she repeated. "Don't. I didn't mean... Don't come home; it's not that important."

"Why don't you tell me what happened?" he probed gently.

Rose released a sigh, a soft explosion of breath as she fought to find words for what had just occurred, and why. "I tried to call my mum," was what finally came out.

"Rose -"

"I don't know why, I just thought 'I should call Mum - it's been a while.' And I did. Or I tried to, but then I couldn't remember her number. That's when I realised that I didn't know the number because I hadn't called her in years, because I couldn't." She was sobbing again by the end of it. There was silence on the other end of the line and she got the feeling the Doctor was trying to find the right thing to say to her.

"Oh Rose," he sighed at last.

"I'm being stupid, aren't I?" she asked miserably.

"No, of course not!" came the indignant answer, and she appreciated it. It was nice to know that at least someone didn't think she was completely pathetic, or completely crazy. That made one of them. "Stress makes us do funny things, Rose."

"I'm not stressed. What do I have to be stressed about?" she asked curiously. He was a strange little man at times.

"Well, we've made several large decisions recently. Things like that will do your head in."

"We have?" she asked puzzled. _What in the world?_

"Didn't we decide to go travelling last night, or was that my other wife I talked to?" he said very dryly.

"Oh that! That's not stressful, Doctor, that's a good thing!"

"Good stressful - it'll still make you do crazy things. I mean the night before our wedding - look at what I got up to -"

"I rather not, thanks." She'd been the one convincing the cops that they really didn't need to take him down to the station, that she would take him home and put him to bed. "And what's this about another wife? Who is she?"

"I don't know. Which one are you? I mean, there's the blond. Drop dead gorgeous, a little on the short side, answers to the name R-"

"All right, all right! Stop! Very funny."

"You must be Rose then," he deadpanned and she had to laugh. "Do you want me to come home? There isn't anything here that won't wait until tomorrow."

"No, it's okay, I'm just - I just - it was a shock, that's all."

"It always is, Rose," he told her quietly, and she could hear the sympathy and pain in his voice. His entire family had been killed in a house fire. If there was anyone who understood how she felt, it was him. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine. Finish your work and I'll see you for dinner."

"Yes, ma'am. Takeaways?"

"Please."

-x-x-x-

Only when Rose went back upstairs to make the bed did she discover the notebook sitting idly on the bedside cabinet. Normally, the Doctor took it with him religiously, but in his rush that morning, he must have forgotten.

She managed to ignore it the entire time she was spreading the sheets, laying the duvet, and stuffing the pillows into their cases. When it came to the bedspread, however, she accidentally knocked the book to the floor. It fell open, upside down.

Rose stooped to pick it up, and ruthlessly resisted the temptation to flick through it - it was probably just full of equations or notes on some project the Doctor was working on. There would be nothing of interest to Rose. Calmly, she placed the book on the cabinet, and finished straightening the spread. She added a couple of cushions for decoration. The bed only got made once a week, and Rose liked to do a proper job of it. Even if the Doctor did complain that it made it hard to go to bed that night.

At the end though, the notebook was still sitting unobtrusively on the cabinet. Resolutely, Rose turned away to head out the door. Then she gave up, turned back, picked up the notebook and sat on the edge of the bed. She promised herself that she'd only take a peek, but that all flew out the window once she'd opened it.

 _Barbara ~~Wrede~~ ~~Reilly~~ Wright. Friend. Coal Hill School. Shoreditch. Teacher. Strong-willed. ~~1968.~~ 1963\. Historian (?)._   
_Aztecs. With Ian Chesterton (ref.). Taught Susan._

In capital letters at the bottom, underlined several times:

 _WHO IS SUSAN FOREMAN?_

Who indeed? The next page was someone else.

 _Jo Grant. Josephine. Friend. Assistant. Replaced Liz Shaw(?). Earth. ~~21st~~ 20th Century. UNIT. Married Professor Clifford Jones. Autons (ref.). Daffodils? Amazon. Giant Maggots. Fought the Master (ref.)._

The page after that was something different again.

 _The Master. Koschei (?). Foe. Has died - more than once (!) Time Lord?(ref.). Gallifrey (ref.). Betrayed/betrayer. Eye of Harmony. Traken. No more ~~rejuvenations~~ regenerations. Tissue compression eliminator._

Each page was devoted to one person. Every entry had numerous crossings out, and arrows coming off them, referencing other entries. All of them had either the word 'friend' or 'foe' somewhere on the page. Then at the back of the notebook there was a similar format for peoples and places. There were less of them, however, only ten. The main focus seemed to be on the names.

Rose flicked back to the front and noticed a disturbing trend. The majority of the names were female. Actually, that wasn't a problem in itself. Long ago, Rose had decided she could either trust her husband, or she could be paranoid about the amount of time he spent with his students and colleagues, most of whom were closer in age to him, and far more his academic equal. Until now she had never had reason to doubt him.

Her biggest problem was that he had seen fit to hide these names from her. This indicated to her that he was involved in something he didn't want her to know about it. And it wasn't just something he hadn't told her about because he thought she wouldn't be interested in, either. It was a deliberate concealment. Also she didn't recognise any of the names -

Wait, there was one: Captain Jack Harkness, and a blurb followed by the question 'why is he my mechanic?' Well, she knew that name, but the Doctor had clearly been confused about Harkness' career. The blurb implied he thought that their mechanic should have been someone else, something else. Well, that didn't make sense, but then again neither did the rest of the notebook.

The contents read like a science fiction novel. All unusual names, and places and objects that made no sense to Rose. A code of some sort maybe? Was her husband writing a novel? It was the sort of odd thing that he would get into his head that he wanted to do. But that seemed to be so implausible. Why would he want to write a novel and not tell her? Usually she was the first to hear about his crazy schemes, or the experiments he intended to conduct next. She didn't understand what he was doing.

Deciding the best course of action was to wait for her husband to come home, and then tell him what she had done and ask for an explanation about what the notebook meant, Rose put the book back on the cabinet where she had found it.

Throughout the rest of the afternoon, she did her best not to think about what she had read. However, her thoughts seemed to constantly turn back to the notebook and its confusing contents. The more she thought about it, the more she began to worry, and the more she worried about it, the more suspicious and angry she became.

By the time the Doctor arrived home with their dinner she was good and worked up about the whole thing.

-x-x-x-

"I'm home!" he called through the house, a little concerned at the stillness. She'd been awfully upset earlier, maybe he really should have come home then. But she'd sounded better by the time they'd finished talking, and he really had needed to mark those assignments.

"Kitchen," the cool answer came and he winced, wondering what he'd done this time.

"Hi, honey," he said, as he placed the cartons of takeaways on the bench top. "How are you feeling?"

She said nothing, just glared at him. Uh-oh, he'd really done it this time. What could it be? With a sinking feeling he realised what it might have been… the discovery at what he'd left behind that morning. Well at least he'd have ammunition if that was what was bothering her.

"What's wrong?" he asked cautiously, ready to duck out of the room should she throw something.

In answer, she pushed something across the table to him. He winced again, but tried to hide it. His notebook. Well, fire with fire.

"You looked through my notebook?" he snapped angrily.

"What is it? Who are these people?" she growled back, equally angry.

"You had no right to go through that!" He was aware that it was a slightly ridiculous thing to say, but that didn't lessen his temper.

"No right? I had no right? That's a bit rich. What the hell is this about, Thierry? What have you being doing behind my back?" The implication hurt. He would never cheat on her, and he hoped that she knew that.

The sting of betrayal made him snap back. "Absolutely nothing! What have you been doing to make you so suspicious, hmm?"

"What have I been doing? Don't you dare deflect this on me! I haven't done anything remotely deserving of that accusation – as you well know. Besides, I'm not the one who's been frantically scribbling names in a book for weeks, keeping secrets?"

"What has that got to do you with you? Why would you care anyway?"

"Women's names. They are women's names. You've been writing women's names in this book, and being so secretive about it. Did you honestly think that I wouldn't find out?"

Well, no, he'd rather hoped she wouldn't. At least not until he'd figured out what they meant, why he was writing them down. Even now, or rather, since she'd been throwing accusations at him, he didn't want to talk to her about it. Whatever was going on felt very personal, and he didn't want to share.

"It's none of your business," he told her coldly.

She sat back like she'd been slapped, and he watched as everything in her seemed close down. Her face went blank and her eyes icy.

"Well if that's the way you feel about it, I'll see you tomorrow." With that she stood abruptly and stomped out of the kitchen, up the stairs and slammed their bedroom door.

For long moments the Doctor stood in the kitchen, his eyes closed, cursing himself and his wife for being such bull-headed idiots. Finally, he turned and pulled open a cupboard and removed a very fine bottle of whisky that they'd been given as a wedding present by one of his colleagues.

Finding a glass, he sat at the table and poured himself a generous measure, throwing it back. The alcohol burned its way down, and he savoured the sensation. He took a second drink.

"Well that went well," he said to no one in particular, and poured himself another glass, which went down the same way.

He was halfway through the next glass - taking it a good deal slower - before he realised that the alcohol was having no effect on him whatsoever. Strange, he thought. Lunch had been several hours ago, and he hadn't had much to eat. He'd have thought he'd been starting to feel at least a bit tipsy by now. He wasn't a big drinker, and it was very good whisky. Yet he was as clear-headed as ever.

"Doctor?" His name wobbled slightly. He turned to see his wife standing slightly outside the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe. Her face was streaked, and her eyes red. But her gaze remained steady and, he couldn't help noticing, slightly apologetic.

"Rose," he sighed, and waved her over.

"I'm sorry," she said, staying in the doorway. "I shouldn't have invaded your privacy like that."

"You're forgiven. And you're right, I shouldn't have kept that a secret from you. It's just…" he trailed off. "Come over, have a drink and I'll try to explain it to you."

She sat across from him at the table, and he filled his glass, pushing it over to her. She accepted it, and downed it in one gulp, grimaced and held it out for a refill. He gave it to her willingly. The notebook sat between them ominously, but for a long moment neither of them commented on it.

The Doctor took a deep breath. "I don't know who these people are, Rose. I can't explain it. I wake up in the morning and there are names in my head, people, places, cultures. I haven't dreamed about them - they're just there."

"What about Jack Harkness?" she asked.

"That's a very good question and frankly, I just don't know," he admitted. "None of these names are of real people. Or if they are they don't fit the description. Except for Jack Harkness. Or Captain Jack Harkness as it says here. I wrote that before I knew him, that morning in fact. Can you imagine my surprise to find him there when I dropped my car off?" He smiled humourlessly, and saw Rose's lips twist to match.

"He shouldn't be there," the Doctor said, without knowing why. "He's not meant to be there. He's meant to be… he's meant to be -" ...no, that couldn't be right... "- dead."

"No, he's not," Rose objected, then backtracked a little, seeming not to understand her reaction either. "I mean, if he's meant to be dead then why is he working as a mechanic?"

"Another very good question." Unfortunately, he couldn't provide any answers.

"Did you ask him?" Another very good question.

"Well, no."

"Why not?" _Reasons why I love my wife #7689: she never lets me get away with anything._

"How would it sound? 'Uh, excuse me, but for the last few weeks I've been waking up with a bunch of names on my mind. You are the first person I've met that actually fits your profile. Would you like to tell me why?' The man would think I was out of my mind!"

"But at least you could have some answers!" Remembering the look of vague recognition in Jack Harkness' eyes, the Doctor couldn't help but agree. At the time however, he'd been far too cautious – surprised – to say anything.

"Maybe I need to rectify that mistake," he told her calmly.

"Maybe you do!" came her quick response.

"But not tonight." The glint in Rose's eyes told him she was heating up for another argument, so he held up his hand. "There's something else I want to show you tonight." His mouth was dry, and his palms sweaty. He hadn't planned on showing her this, and certainly not so soon. After all, he'd only just recently realised he could do this. To steady himself, he took a deep breath. "Please come over here."

She frowned, but came over to the chair beside him and sat down. Both of them turned their chairs so they were facing each other, knees not quite touching. Rose's big dark eyes looked into his, unsure, but trusting. Good, he had the feeling he was going to need that, but more than that he felt relief. Her trust could have been severely shaken by his actions, and it would so much harder to get it back.

He took another deep breath, nervous; more nervous than he'd been since the day he'd asked Rose to marry him. She'd been one step ahead of him that day, and had been very kind and accepted his proposal before he'd made a complete mess out of the entire incident. However, he wasn't going to get a lifesaver this time. Rose knew even less than he did about this.

He took her hands lightly in his own. Maybe physical contact would help? Well, he doubted it would hurt anyway. "Can you tell me the time?" he asked. The kitchen clock was behind him, and for this exercise he preferred it that way. The more he could do, the more real this would be in her mind. Always providing it worked.

"Half-seven," she said with a shrug.

"Actually," he told her, "it's 7:33." This was something he was absolutely certain of.

Rose gave him an odd look, then glanced back up at the clock, and furrowed her brow. She cast it off, though, he could see in her face.

"Close your eyes," he said.

"Thierry?" She only ever called him by his given name when she was upset. Angry, frightened, nervous, concerned, whatever, she wasn't completely comfortable with the situation. Maybe his gravity was affecting her - it wouldn't be the first time.

"Trust me, Rose." The worst that would happen was that this wouldn't work, but he was rather hoping it would, no matter what it changed.

Her eye lids fluttered shut without further protest.

Carefully, he directed her into a light meditation. Nothing fancy, and possibly unnecessary, he just wanted her mind clear and her thoughts focussing outwards. Once her breathing was deep and even, and her grip in his hands was relaxed, he followed a similar path. Discovering you're mildly telepathic always comes as a shock, but eventually you realise it will come in handy at times.

Then he twisted, and gave a light push, and exhaled. Opening his eyes, he blinked in the sudden darkness, and talked Rose back up. He could have just had her open her eyes, but he really wanted her calm for this. The entire process had taken a couple of minutes. Two minutes and forty-seven seconds to be precise.

"How'd it get so dark?" was Rose's first question. She stood and went to turn the kitchen light on. "God, I'm starving." She grabbed the takeaway boxes and brought them over to the table with a couple of forks. She opened one and made a face. "Yuck, cold."

There was a pause, while his wife studied him. He couldn't see her face, as he was staring into middle distance. It had worked; she hadn't noticed yet, but it had worked.

"Doctor? Thierry?"

"What time is it, Rose?"

"Sev-" her face went blank and she dropped her fork when she actually looked up at the clock. "It's after midnight!"

"12:13am," he confirmed, not needing to look at the clock.

"H- wha- how? What did you do?" she asked, eyes wide. "How'd you change the clock?"

"I didn't."

"But it's only been a couple of minutes!"

"No," he corrected. "It's been nearly five hours, it only seems like it's been a few minutes. Look out the window Rose - it's full dark, the neighbours are all asleep. The moon has risen - that didn't happen in the last couple of minutes, it was due to rise at 8:53pm."

Rose took a deep breath. "What did you do?" she asked, a note of suspicion creeping into her tone.

"I altered your perception of the flow of time. Well, ours, since I was there with you."

Rose covered her mouth with her hand, and turned away from him, at a loss for words. He wasn't sure what to make of her reaction. She wasn't jumping up and down and calling him a liar, or crazy, or screaming for a divorce. At the same time she hadn't quite congratulated him on his stunning success either.

"Rose?"

"How?" she asked, turning back.

"Well, that's the thing, I don't really know." He didn't know how he'd done it. He didn't know why he could. He had no idea what had told him he'd be able to include Rose. All he knew was that he had known he could do it.

"Is it something to do with one of your experiments? Something you didn't tell me about? Something that happened?" she asked, methodical as always, checking through all available options.

"Petty human things - no, it has nothing to with them," he dismissed with an absent wave of his hand.

"Petty human things? Doctor, you're human!"

"I am not!" He blinked and realised what he'd just said. "Well…"

"Doctor? What are you saying?" Rose asked him.

"I'm trying to say… I don't know. I really, really don't know. I have no idea what I'm trying to say. Rose, am I going crazy?" he asked, starting to feel desperate.

"If you are, then so am I. I believe you, Doctor." There was a pause, and the Doctor absorbed her words. Rose wasn't in the habit of saying things that weren't true. If she said she believed him, she meant it. A weight he didn't know he'd been carrying lifted off his shoulders. "Now eat your dinner," she told him firmly, and he felt his lips twitch. Yes, that was his Rose, through and through.

"Cold chow mein?" That didn't sound at all appetising.

"Don't you complain to me - it's your own fault. You should have thought about that before you changed anyone's perception of time."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Beta-d by Paranoid Seat.

**Chapter Three**

-x-x-x-

The next morning, they both called in citing a 'family emergency' as the reason neither would be at work. For breakfast, they both sat at the table, Rose with her marmalade on toast and the Doctor with his cornflakes. The routine was comfortable and normal, something that Rose thought they probably both needed.

The notebook, however, still sat in the middle of the table, reminding them that they had work to do, and many things to discuss. For the first few moments, neither of them spoke, but Rose knew they needed to get this over with. It was essential that they do something about what was happening, and there was no time like the present.

"Do you have any more names?" she asked finally, after some deliberation about how to approach the subject, and deciding that directly was best.

The Doctor looked up from spooning the last of his sugary milk from his bowl, his eyes wide and serious. "Hmmm? Oh. Yes. Two people and a place, as a matter of fact. Charley Pollard, who apparently didn't die when she was meant to; and Romana, who was a Time Lady. The place is Earth."

"That actually sounds familiar," Rose told him. "Earth. Earth." She repeated the word over a couple of times to listen to its sound.

"It should," replied the Doctor. "It's your home world."

There was a pause while Rose collected her wits. "What?" she asked, completely nonplussed. Her home world? But she'd always lived here. On this world, and there was no travelling to other worlds at all. They couldn't even get a ship to the other planets in the solar system.

Across from her, the Doctor looked back serenely for a few seconds, until he seemed to realise what he had said. He shook his head, concern written all over his face.

"I did it again?" he asked. "Didn't I?"

Rose nodded, not sure what to say. Was there a good answer to a question like that? "The name does feel familiar to me," she pointed out eventually. "But I don't know why. This is my home, Doctor, always has been. I think I'd know if I came from a different planet."

"Well, yes, I have to admit that's true. However, I'm beginning to think this is about something greater, something more than our physical surroundings."

Rose puzzled through that statement. Physical surroundings. But she was unsure what he was trying to say. Well, when in doubt, ask. "What do you mean?"

"I'm beginning to think that this is about something that is happening on my, or rather our - since it does seem to affect you as well - subconscious level."

"You mean like crazy?" she asked, and when he didn't immediately follow up with a denial, she continued. "Doctor, I thought we'd already discussed this wasn't about you being crazy - or me for that matter. I'm not crazy."

"Crazy is something completely out of the norm. What is happening now is just that: completely out of the norm. I'm remembering names and characteristics of people I've never met and places I've never been - things that I have no basis for knowing anything about. Yesterday, you tried to call your mother, who has been dead for years." She jumped at this as the memory flooded back through her, and she discovered she'd forgotten again. The Doctor reached out and curled a hand around hers in comfort. "And then there's Jack Harkness, who as far as we're concerned, didn't even exist until four days ago, yet - and correct me if I'm wrong - both of us felt a certain affinity with him, as if he was familiar."

"You're not wrong." She had felt as if she'd known Jack for a while, like he was an old, or dear friend. And then there was the situation with her mother. It'd been years, more than enough time to come to terms with the death.

"See, crazy." Sometimes the Doctor liked to think that the truth of his words spoke for themselves.

Maybe that was because his students seemed to accept them easily enough. However, Rose wasn't one of his students and she doubted he'd have married her if she had been. The Doctor seemed to like that she challenged him on his beliefs regularly. She wasn't going to accept what he said just because he said it, and he was older than her and so much more educated. Rose needed the proof, and she'd keep needling until she got what she was looking for.

"But Doctor, crazy? I mean if we were crazy we'd probably be the last to know, I admit, but I don't feel any different than I did yesterday or Tuesday or last month. It's everything else that's becoming weird."

"Yes, and that's my point. Everything else appears to be crazy not us. It's the situation, not me and not you." He seemed perfectly happy with this explanation.

"So, we're sane and the rest of the world is crazy," she said, not quite disbelieving - more sceptical.

"Exactly."

Rose sat back in her seat. Well, that was a better a point of view from where she was sitting, but it still seemed unlikely. She pointed this out to the Doctor.

He just shrugged. "Doesn't mean to say that it's not true. Unlikely isn't impossible, Rose. However, we do need more information, to do some research as it were. Once I've finished adding in today's and yesterday's entries, I want you to go through this -" he tapped the notebook, "- and tell me if any of it is familiar to you."

While he was updating himself, Rose tidied away their breakfast. As she stacked the dishwasher, she watched him copying down information from the day before that he'd had to write on a piece of paper, because he'd accidentally left it at home. She felt slightly guilty at the thought, but it was washed away by amusement when she realised that he was also copying in all of his crossing-outs.

Once the box of cornflakes and jar of marmalade were back in the cupboard, and the table wiped clean, Rose sat down beside the Doctor and watched him copy in Romana. Compared to the rest of the entries she'd seen there wasn't very much, so she asked him about it and he told her that he usually garnered more information through the day.

The last phrase he wrote in made her sit forward. She hadn't noticed before when he said it to her, but now it rang a bell in the back of her mind. "Time Lady? Isn't there something in your book about them?" she asked. The entries at the back of the book hadn't really caught her attention the way the ones at the front had, but now that she thought about it, she could remember something.

The Doctor flipped to the back of the book, where one of the entries was labelled 'Time Lords'. "Here we are." Quickly, he tagged on the entry ' _Romana (ref.) - a Time Lady (?)_ ' to the bottom. Then scanned back through it. "I don't seem to have liked these 'Time Lords' much. ' _A stuck up bunch of ivory tower academics_.'" She could see his frown, and brushed her hand down his cheek. Something was bothering him, something more than the current situation.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I don't know. I feel sad when I look at this. Sad and angry, and I don't know why. Alone."

For a second, she was at a loss to say anything. There was something dark and painful in his eyes, similar to when he spoke of his family and their deaths. Gently she reached forward and placed a hand on his arm. "You are never alone, Doctor. You have me, and always will."

He covered her hand with his own. "Thank you, Rose. I am glad I have you. Of course, you have me too, for better or for worse." The moment stretched and became fluid. Finally the Doctor shifted and sighed. He pushed the notebook towards her. "Look through it carefully, and see if you can give any insights on any of this. Any at all."

Rose did as he asked, but nothing stood out to her. The blurb on Jack Harkness seemed to fit in with what little she knew of him, but little else. 'TARDIS' made her sit up, but she didn't know why. Occasionally, what appeared to be names of either places or people tickled the back of her mind, but nothing distinct. The word 'regeneration' evoked a sense of displeasure, which she conveyed to the Doctor, but he just shrugged and brushed it off, apparently not as affected. The back section had a little more effect, when she felt as if she recognised some of the places or people. 'Slitheen' and 'Game Station' in particular made her lip curl, but she couldn't add to the Doctor's information, and some of it seemed foreign to her as well. _Skin suit. The last of the Daleks._ No shattering revelations.

"I'm sorry," she told him once she was done. "Nothing."

"No matter," he said although she got the feeling that it did in fact matter. "Perhaps Mr. Harkness can help us here. I'll write the names down, and we'll give him the list, minus the extra information - and his own name - to see what he says."

Which was how, half an hour later, they found themselves on the way to see their new mechanic. Rose was feeling apprehensive, which she supposed was understandable. The Doctor seemed calm and unflappable, whistling quietly as he drove them over.

Once they were out of the car, he escorted Rose inside the building with a hand firmly at the small of her back. The gesture was purely possessive, and Rose had to suppress a smile. Yes, it could be annoying when he started getting jumpy about the presence of other men in her life, but it also gave her immense satisfaction. She liked that he had this little insecurity about her, because until all of this happened, he seemed to have very few insecurities. Nice to know he wasn't completely immortal.

An assistant led them out to where Harkness was working, and Rose's first impression was that of a pair of smudged jeans sticking out from under a car. For a second, the sight was so familiar that Rose actually stepped back, and wondered why there was only one pair of legs. The Doctor caught her firmly, and threw her a concerned glance, but she shook her head not knowing how to explain the sense of nostalgia and loss that swept through her.

Harkness slid out from under the car and his welcoming smile grew into one of invitation. Rose was surprised when her first reaction was to step closer to her husband. She suppressed it, and smiled back at the tall man in front of them, trying to not admire his good looks too closely. If she did the Doctor would notice and there'd be trouble.

"Hey, there," Jack Harkness greeted them with his broad drawl. "Something wrong with the car?" His tone suggested that there wasn't, and that in actual fact this was his lucky day.

"Actually, we're here on unrelated business," the Doctor said smoothly, although Rose noticed he had increased the pressure on her back.

Harkness' grin hinted that he knew what that business was and that he was going to enjoy said business. Rose was becoming increasingly more disturbed. There wasn't anything about him that was unfamiliar. She could have had similar conversations with him all of her life.

"Really," asked the mechanic, looking completely unperturbed. "Well, let's find somewhere more… comfortable to discuss it then." He indicated a door to one side, and that they should proceed through it, but the Doctor held back. Tilting his head at Harkness, he flicked his chin. Harkness held the Doctor's gaze for long moments. Rose stayed very still. This was different from her husband's usual 'back off, she's mine' look. She wasn't quite sure what it meant, but it felt dangerous.

Then Harkness smiled, warm and friendly, as if nothing had happened, and led the way through the door to a comfortable looking office. He made sure they were seated comfortably on a couch, before exiting through a second door that seemed to lead to a small bathroom, and the sound of running water reached Rose's ears.

"What's going on?" she murmured into the Doctor's ear.

"I don't know," he admitted quietly. "Are you all right? You seemed tense earlier."

She shook her head. "It was nothing. Just seems familiar, is all." Everything about Jack Harkness was familiar up to the way he interacted with the Doctor and herself, and even including the folded blanket and pillow sitting unobtrusively in the corner.

"Yeah," he agreed.

"Are you all right?" she asked. "You can relax, you know. I'm yours - always will be." Sometimes he responded best to direct statements.

The Doctor turned sharply towards her and she lifted her eyebrows, letting him know she'd caught him in the act. He nodded to himself and then leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips. Rose smiled and touched his face with a fingertip, running it along his cheek. He kissed her again.

"As sweet as the two of you are - making out on my couch and all - you did say you had business to discuss." Harkness' voice interrupted them, and Rose and the Doctor jumped apart a little, but Rose felt the Doctor's hand creeping into her own, and she curled her fingers around his. Harkness definitely noticed the gesture, but what he thought of it, Rose couldn't tell.

Out of the Doctor's pocket came the list of names, which he passed over to Harkness, who took them readily. "Do you recognise any of these names, Mr. Harkness?"

"It's Jack," Harkness said, as he began to look down the list. Rose thought she saw shock and horror reflected in his eyes for a moment, but she couldn't be sure.

"Jack," the Doctor said. "Any of the names ring a bell? There's a few places towards the bottom as well."

"Game Station," was Harkness' - Jack's - immediate answer. There was some surprise in his tone, and concern. His lip curled, much like Rose remembered her own doing at the name. The place seemed distasteful, provoking a response similar to the word Auschwitz. If she knew what Auschwitz was.

"Interesting. Rose, here said the same, even had a similar reaction. Which considering the two of you hadn't met until Wednesday is a little unusual, don't you think?" the Doctor said, and Rose could tell he was fishing for information, trying to offer some of his own as encouragement.

Jack wasn't biting. Either he didn't know, or he didn't care. Rose watched him carefully, as his gaze swung between herself and the Doctor.

"Really?" the mechanic said as he passed the piece of paper back. The Doctor waved his hand indicating that Jack should hold on to it. "Well, 'TARDIS' may mean something but I couldn't tell you what."

Rose felt her heart sink. She hadn't really believed that this man would be able to help them, but she had hoped that he might have something to give them. A glance at the Doctor showed no reaction whatsoever.

"What if I told you that your name was on that list, between the Rani and Victoria Waterfield?" the Doctor asked carefully.

Jack stiffened, and his eyes flicked downwards. "Is that supposed to be a threat?" he asked, and Rose once again felt a sense of danger. Jack Harkness would not be a good man to make angry. Her husband could be terrifying - though never towards her - and she suspected that a display of temper between the two would not end well. Idly, she wondered which would come off better, and then frowned at herself for being disloyal - the Doctor would, of course.

But, right at that moment, the Doctor was doing his best to diffuse the situation. "Of course not," he scoffed. "If I were threatening you, Mr. Harkness, you wouldn't need to ask. And I'd be doing a much better job of it - I assure you. All I want to know is if anything on this list means anything to you."

"Then no, it doesn't."

"You're lying." The words were cool and even, confident.

Rose fought the urge to groan and drop her face into her hands. "Doctor…" His fingers around hers tightened a little, but otherwise he didn't acknowledge her in anyway. The message was for her to keep quiet, but she wasn't going to, not for much longer.

"What do you want me to say?" Jack asked, eyes narrowed.

"Start with the truth, would be good."

"The truth about what?" Rose could hear the exasperation in Jack's tone, as if he didn't quite know what was being asked of him.

"What you know," the Doctor said calmly.

"I don't know anything," the other man replied through gritted teeth.

"Then why was your name on the list?" snapped the Doctor and Rose could see his patience rapidly running out.

"I don't know. Why don't you tell me - you wrote the damned thing!" growled Jack, and Rose knew from some sort of forgotten experience that he was only moments away from losing his temper.

"Wait," Rose interrupted before anything got worse. "Jack, if we said your name appeared as 'Captain Jack Harkness', would that mean anything to you?"

He looked at her sharply. "No," he said confusion creeping into his tone. Beside her the Doctor let a soft sigh, and she could feel him trying to lose some of the tension. "A pilot, though. Different type of vehicle."

"You were a pilot?" Rose asked, more out of curiosity than anything else.

"Yeah," and Jack threw her a speculative glance. He seemed to be wondering if that was something she might look for in a potential partner. "For the Air Force." Now the Doctor stiffened again at Jack's interest in her, which she could tell was as much to piss the Doctor off, as it was genuine.

"So who are these people that you've come here accusing me of knowing?" A sharp edge still cut along Jack's words, but some of his animosity seemed to have drained. Rose wondered if it were because he'd managed to get one over the Doctor by attracting her attention. She hoped not, she really hoped not, because she refused to be fought over by these two.

A slight pause met his answer as the Doctor seemed to be considering how best to answer him. Rose gave him a gentle squeeze through their joined hands to remind him of her earlier words. She watched him carefully as he came to a decision.

"We don't know," the Doctor admitted at long last. "None of them seem to fit with anyone as far as I can tell. Some of the names belong to real people, but there's no reason to believe that they fit their profile."

As Rose was still watching him closely, she could see him flinch slightly at his words, though she doubted Jack would notice. They'd argued before leaving home whether they should, or should not show Jack the blurbs. Rose had thought so, while the Doctor had vetoed the idea, saying the names should be enough. He'd won in the end, and the notebook still sat on their kitchen table.

"Profile?" Jack asked now. He would have had to have been fairly dim not to pick up on the reference to more information, and Rose was getting the impression that Jack was far away from being unintelligent. She'd never thought him stupid, but she suspected there was a lot more to him than met the eye. The mention of the Air Force had only been one tiny piece.

"You don't need to know right now," was the Doctor's icy answer. Rose groaned inwardly, but didn't get a chance to say anything.

In response to the frosty tone, Jack's face went blank. "Well, then, I'm sorry, but I can't help you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do." His tone was smooth and professional.

The three of them stood, and the Doctor looked Jack up and down. "I wish you'd help. It'd be in your own best interests."

"I seriously doubt that, Doctor. Somehow, I think it'd be in _your_ own best interests. There's nothing here for me. Also, I'd appreciate it if next time you have a problem with your car, you take it somewhere else."

Rose firmly kept her jaw from dropping. Now that was a little unfair. He'd really prefer to lose business rather than have to talk to Rose or the Doctor? That seemed extreme. Maybe he really thought they were crazy. If that was the case, Rose could sympathise - she thought that they might be crazy too.

Jack indicated they should proceed him out of the door, and the Doctor didn't resist this time. Rose however broke away and strode to Jack's desk, despite the mechanic's startled protest. Grabbing a piece of paper and pen, she scribbled down their phone number.

"Here," she said. "If you change your mind, or think you remember something - please call us." Then she caught the Doctor's arm as they left.

"You didn't have to antagonise him," she protested once they were in the car.

The Doctor sighed as he started the engine, which failed the first time, but caught the second. How embarrassing, Rose thought irrationally, if it did stop right here and now. We'd be stuck outside of the mechanic who doesn't want anything to do with us crazy people.

"I didn't really antagonise him," the Doctor pointed out.

"You called him a liar!"

"Well, he was - is. He's good at hiding it, but something on that list really bothered him. He was very unsettled towards the end there. I find that suspicious, don't you find it suspicious?"

"Of course, we could just be utterly crazy, and that's what disturbed him."

"There is that, but we're fairly certain it isn't, remember? By the way, good thinking on leaving our number. Should he rethink things - and I think he might, he's intelligent enough not to be foolish for long - he'll be able to reach us. Of course, he likely has our details on file, but this'll keep gnawing at him, like a dog at a bone."

"You really think that?" Rose asked, warmed.

"I do. Home again, my dear?"

"Home," she agreed, feeling tired all of a sudden.

-x-x-x-


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Beta-d by Paranoid Seat and Eeveekitty, both of who did an awesome job of trying to make this mess readable.

**Chapter Four**

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Jack Harkness had decided that he was crazy. Actually, that was a fact that he'd accepted a long time ago. Only now his madness had taken a frightening new turn, somehow becoming ensnared in that of the Tylers.

A week ago, he'd been perfectly happy with his life. Sure, some people found him a little unsettling, but there really wasn't anyone he couldn't charm if he tried hard enough. The Doctor and Rose, both attractive and both friendly, had been no exception. Despite the fact that he'd noticed the ring on the Doctor's finger almost immediately – he generally checked, less mess that way – he'd flirted with both. The Doctor had been a little cool, but Rose warmed immediately, bantering back and forth with him, never letting it go further than was sensible.

Of course, that was before he knew they were - what was that odd phrase? Oh yeah: 'mad as march hares'. Absolutely stark raving mad. Also it was before he knew just how crazy he, himself was.

It had been the dream. To start with he'd just believed it was a nightmare; something twisted his sub-conscious wanted to tell him. So he'd ignored it. Then he'd had it again. And again. And again. Every night for the last four nights. The first time had been the night before he'd met the Doctor, and every night since.

He hadn't realised that the dream had anything to do with the Doctor or Rose, though he'd felt a connection with both from the first second. Then the Doctor had produced that stupid, stupid list, and Jack hadn't known what it meant, but one thing leapt of the page at him.

Game Station.

The first thought that entered his head was: _this is the place that I die._ Every single night. He died every single night. And every single night he was revived. Apparently somewhere called the Game Station.

How had they known what would get to him? How? Were the three of them linked in some sort of joint hallucination? Was he hallucinating the other two? Or was this some cruel joke played to upset him, by two people he could have offended - even if he didn't remember how? But how would they know that? Had they bugged his room, his office? Did he talk in his sleep?

"Madness," he said out loud, because that's what it was. He was slowly going crazy and for some reason the Tylers seemed to be involved.

Which was why he was standing on their front door step, about to ring their doorbell to demand some answers. They'd done the same to him after all: come to his shop and try and force him to answer their questions. Well, now he wanted some of his own, and he wasn't going to leave until he had them.

Rose answered the door. Her welcoming smile quickly faded into concern when she saw him. "Jack!" she exclaimed. "What -"

"I think we need to talk. You, me and handsome."

She nodded and stepped back for him to enter the house. "Of course. Um, the Doctor's through here…" She led Jack along a bookcase lined corridor and into a main room, which faced due west and currently had a fairly stunning view of the sunset. The house was smallish, but cosy - far warmer than Jack's own bare apartment.

The Doctor sat on a comfortable-looking, if slightly ragged couch, reading some heavy tome. On the low coffee table there were several stacks of books; some were colourful and bore bright titles about psychology and the sub-conscious, some, like the Doctor's, looked musty and aged. Already uneasy and off-centre, not to mention tired, Jack felt something akin to dread trickle up through him at the sight of the books.

"Rose, who was -" The Doctor looked up to see Jack standing behind his wife. Something that could have been surprise flickered through his eyes, but he seemed to suppress it for something that was distantly welcoming. "Hello, Jack. I thought we might see you again."

"Did you?" he asked bluntly, because until quarter of an hour earlier, he'd had no intention of coming here. Rose sighed softly and exited through another door to what appeared to be a kitchen/dining area. Jack barely noticed, keeping his attention on the man in front of him.

"Yes." The Doctor's gaze was steady, and he didn't elaborate, instead turning towards the door as Rose re-entered the room. She was carrying three glasses and a bottle of wine, which she set on the table, knocking a few books aside - to the Doctor's disapproval.

"Drink, Jack?" she asked, ignoring her husband as he straightened a couple of upturned texts fussily. Wine wasn't generally Jack's drink of choice, but he was feeling edgy enough that just about anything to settle his nerves would go down well. She passed him a glass of white wine that, when he tasted it, was actually pretty good.

"Please, have a seat," she said, motioning to a stuffed armchair, pouring herself and the Doctor a drink each and sitting down on the couch. "And don't mind grumpy here, he gets tetchy when he hasn't eaten."

The Doctor took his avid gaze off Jack and resettled it on his wife. "Really Rose, I've been busy. This is important!"

"So's food!" the young woman protested. They carried on, bickering back and forward for a few minutes. Jack just sat back, sipping his wine, to watch them at it. The picture they created was no less attractive than before, if anything, it was more so. Together, this pair was electric. All other misgivings aside, this was just about worth coming here tonight.

Dinner was eventually ordered via a pizza company, which prompted an argument about how much 'real' food the couple had had that week, and whether or not either of them could be bothered cooking. None of the arguments held any rancour or anger, they seemed to be purely a form of communication for the pair.

Jack hadn't realised just how lost in thought he'd become until the Doctor startled him back to reality with a well placed comment. "So, Jack, I doubt very much that you're here to watch me and Rose. But, I have to wonder, what did bring you here? This morning you were pretty adamant that you didn't want anything to do with us."

"Game Station."

"Yes," said the Doctor. "You did have a rather strong reaction to that, didn't you? Rose recognised it, and it didn't please her. When it comes right down to it, I don't find myself feeling overly fond of it myself." The Doctor's tone was inscrutable, and his face not showing more than mild interest. Yet Jack felt that the Doctor was far more interested and possibly concerned than he was letting on. He couldn't help wondering when he'd learned to read the man so well, when he hadn't even spent more than an hour, tops, in his presence.

"Show him, Doctor," Rose urged, her face much more mobile and easy to read.

At this the Doctor actually seemed to pout, as if Rose was forcing him into a position that he didn't necessarily want. "I don't think -"

"He deserves to see it! You're dragging him into this, the least you could do is give him the notebook to look at."

"Really, Rose -"

"What notebook?" Jack asked, confused. That morning they'd talked about a profile, which they hadn't bothered to explain then either. Unless they started to give him more information, he wasn't going to tell them anything. And if they didn't start explaining soon, he was leaving. These games didn't sit well with him. Harmless flirtations were part of his life, mind games left him with a sour taste in his mouth.

"It's not important -" the Doctor began.

"Well, obviously it is! You both keep referring to something else that I don't know about here, something that seems significant, but you won't tell me about it," he snapped, patience waning.

"And you won't tell us what's so significant to you about the Game Station. This is important. We have to know you're not just playing with us!"

"And how do I know the same about you -"

"The exchange of knowledge goes both ways!"

Jack was about to snap the same words back at the Doctor, when Rose interrupted.

"Stop it! Both of you. You're both being pig-headed. Doctor, show him the book. And Jack, we aren't trying to trick you - we just want to know what's going on. We don't know either."

They knew a damn sight more than he did, but he refrained from saying so, because Rose was right - they really did need to sort out what was happening. Jack took a deep breath.

"I die there..." The pause wasn't for dramatic irony - the way he usually intended his pauses - so much as a way of gathering his thought. However, he could see from Rose and the Doctor's expressions that whatever they'd been expecting, that wasn't it. Rose had gasped slightly and was staring at him wide-eyed, while the Doctor looked as if he'd been hit in the gut.

"Every single night," he said and he could hear the frustration in his own voice. "I'm killed by something that looks like an over-grown pepper pot. Then I wake up to piles of dust and a noise - grinding, whining, like nothing I've heard before - and I know I'm alone, that I've been left behind. I'm alone. Every night," he bit out.

"How do you know?" he asked, forestalling both of them, when they opened their mouths to speak. "How do you know about something that I've been dreaming about? How are you getting in my head?"

"Jack…" Rose began, and then stopped, apparently unsure what to say.

"As strange as it might seem to you, we're not." The Doctor rose from his seat, and strode over to a small table that had a telephone sitting on it, and, Jack noticed with some chagrin at this own lack of observation, a notebook. The book was handed to him, with a compassionate glance. "I seem to have acquired some information myself, through my sleep."

Jack opened the notebook. Inside were names, that he didn't recognise, other than they'd been on the list earlier that day. Each one was followed by a description, much crossed out and references added in. Finally he stumbled on his own name, right where he'd been told he'd find it - between the Rani and Victoria Waterfield. It made some outrageous claims - _con-artist? Time Agent?_ \- but it all seemed familiar, right down to the implication that he flirted a lot, which he did.

"This is me?" he asked, looking up in time to see the Doctor passing him a plate of pizza.

"I assume so - do you think differently?"

"No." Jack went back to the names - there were only a couple more. Then as directed, he turned to the end of the notebook to view names of places and cultures. These were about as unfamiliar to Jack as the earlier names had been, until he came across:

 _Game Station._

He shook his head. Yes, it all made sense, it all felt so familiar, but again, he couldn't explain what it meant. It was like reaching for a memory that wasn't there. He growled, frustrated, feeling almost helpless. "Why doesn't it come?" he asked, rhetorically.

The Doctor answered anyway. "That's what I would like to know. Why do we know this much about things we can't explain? It doesn't seem right. You should eat your dinner," he said, and the sudden inexplicable change momentarily confused Jack. "Rose'll be cross if you don't." This earned him a whack from his wife, who was nonetheless eating her pizza and giving Jack encouraging looks.

Not particularly hungry, Jack took a mouthful of pizza, which seemed to satisfy Rose for the moment. Then he flicked back through the notebook, looking at what had been written there, looking for clues that either of these two had missed. Nothing came to light. It was mostly gibberish to him, part of it didn't even seem to be referring to things in languages that might have been familiar to him.

"Who is Susan Foreman?" he asked softly to no one in particular, and jumped in surprise when the Doctor practically snatched the notebook out of his hands, and glared down at the underlined words. They turned up in more than one place and apparently held a strong significance to the Doctor.

"I don't know!" The words were frustrated and hard. "She was important, but I don't know why!" He shoved a hand through his hair, ruffling it in a way that in any other situation would have made Jack give a sly comment on his windswept looks. Rose patted her husband on the arm, then slid her hand down to entwine their fingers. It seemed to be something they did a lot. They were very sweet together, despite the strangeness of their pairing.

He shook off his thoughts. The Doctor's reaction to the name Susan Foreman seemed much the same as his own to the Game Station.

Jack turned to Rose. "What about you, beautiful?" he asked, causing the Doctor's nostrils to flare. "Any memory lapses, strange dreams?"

Rose shook her head slowly, but the Doctor turned to her sharply. "Rose -" he began, looking alarmed.

The young woman gasped and paled rapidly, so much so that Jack was tempted to reach out for her to catch her in case she fainted. Wildly, she looked at the Doctor. "I did it again, didn't I?" She buried her face into the Doctor's shoulder and he held her, rubbing her back.

At Jack's questioning glance, he explained. "Rose's mother died when she was seventeen. Just over the last few days she's been having trouble remembering it."

"Don't know how I could forget," murmured Rose.

"Either of you spoken to the neighbours?" Jack asked and at their bewildered looks he explained, although he didn't really put any weight in the theory. "See if they've had any dreams or anything? Maybe there's something in the water. Hallucinogens."

Rose, head still resting on the Doctor's shoulder, snorted. "I don't think that's very likely," the Doctor said, with raised eyebrows.

"No, not really."

"But it might be an idea to write down. Start a list of theories about what's going on; see if any look likely, or if we can eliminate some of them. I'll get some fresh paper." He turned to Rose. "You all right?" She nodded and sat up, but not before they'd exchanged a light kiss on the lips.

The Doctor arrived back in the room as Rose was encouraging Jack to eat his food. He'd been keen to start discussing theories straight away, but Rose convinced them to talk about what they did know while they finished off the food. Later, Jack would be glad for the almost enforced meal as they discussed theories about what was happening, researched as best they could what was in the notebook, and read up on the subconscious mind.

-x-x-x-

"WHO IS SHE?" the Doctor shouted, causing both Jack and Rose to jump in fright and look up at him. "Why is she so important? And why don't I know why?" His anger at the situation had finally boiled over. They'd been working for hours and hours - and hours, Rose thought, looking at the clock sourly - and he'd already been perturbed by what was happening.

Cautiously, she moved over to where her husband was sitting and knelt in front of him, removing the notebook from his lap, where he was glaring at the words asking about Susan Foreman, and taking one of his hands in her own. Gently, she rubbed his fingers. "Doctor?"

"She's so important, Rose, and I don't know why!" he said, his tone still laden with frustration, but calmer now, his temper held in check.

"I think we need to stop for the night," was all the answer that Rose could give, all the answer she felt capable of giving. She didn't know why he couldn't remember, nor did she know who Susan Foreman was. Most of the situation was completely over her head; it wasn't going to stop her from trying, of course, but right now tiredness had limited whatever potential for help she could present. However, she could take care of her husband, so for now that's what she intended on doing. "We should all get some rest and start fresh tomorrow."

"No! I need to finish this. I need to work this out!"

"Doctor, Rose is right, it's 3am. I need some sleep," Jack added and Rose threw him a grateful look for his support. He gave her a tired smile in response, but she could see that it was just as much for his sake as it was for hers.

"I'm not tired," the Doctor snapped. With a shock, Rose realised he didn't look at all tired. By contrast, Jack's eyes were puffy and bloodshot, and she was certain she looked no better - she could barely see straight. The Doctor looked just as fresh as he would have after eight solid hours of sleep.

"But Captain Jack and I are," Rose persuaded, then stopped, wondering where her use of the title had come from. A reference to the strangeness that surrounded the three of them? Or just a slip of tongue? Whatever it was, neither man reacted.

"All right. Tomorrow then," said the Doctor. "First thing."

Both Rose and Jack nodded, though from the expression on Jack's face, Rose suspected that it might be a good deal later before they saw him.

"Do you want me to make you up a bed in the guest room, or do you want to go home?" Rose asked Jack.

"I think I'll head home."

She'd had a feeling that he would want to leave and she couldn't blame him. Part of her felt like escaping. The whole situation was just so crazy, but at the same time, compelling. Headspace at this point would not be unwelcome. However, she had no opportunity to do so; and to be honest, even if she had one, she doubted she would take it.

"I need some space to think," he continued, echoing her thoughts.

The Doctor didn't notice either of them, having gone back to his work. He barely even responded to Jack's farewell. Rose rolled her eyes at her new friend. There was just no hope for her husband, but then she'd known that when she married him, and she still loved him for it.

Rose walked Jack to the door, momentarily leaving the Doctor still muttering over their notes. Shortly, it would be a battle to drag him away from them, but she would do it, because they'd all be much better for a little sleep.

Before leaving, Jack stooped and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Instinctively, she pulled him into a hug, which he returned warmly. She wondered if this was what knowing someone in another life was like, this close attachment to a person you'd only just met.

"Take care of yourself. And look after him - I get the feeling he needs it," Jack told her. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"You too," she told him. She then fought an irrational urge to drag him back into the house and make him stay where she knew where he was at all times. It was as if she didn't, she might just lose him, and she wasn't sure she could stand that.

With an act of supreme will, she shut the door as Jack climbed into his car. Then she gave in and leaned against it, clutching at the handle until she heard the car drive off and the street return to silence. Once she was sure he was gone, she stuck her head out the door looking out into the dark emptiness. Some distant and malformed memory rose up in her.

" _We're going to see him again, aren't we?"_

 _No answer was forthcoming._

She shook it off, not understanding its significance and not knowing who was talking. Maybe the craziness was catching, or maybe it was just getting worse. Jack felt like a part of her she didn't know she was missing, and she didn't want him to slip out of her fingers again. The Doctor was upset about a woman that he didn't know; and she kept forgetting and remembering things for no good reason.

It wasn't until she sniffed that she realised she was crying. Quietly, she shut the door again, and carefully, she brushed her cheeks to remove the traces of tears. The Doctor didn't need to see them.

Her husband actually looked up when she re-entered the room. He gave her a cursory glance and a tight smile before looking back down at the book in front of him. Then he did a double take and looked back up at her.

"Are you all right?" he asked. Well, her cunning attempt at disguise had succeeded so very well.

She nodded, but the concern in his voice was her undoing, and fresh tears spilled out. Quickly, he placed the book to one side and came over to her. "Rose?"

"I'm all right," she mumbled against his chest. His arms were warm and secure around her. "Just tired."

"I supposed you would be," he said. "It is very late. I'm sorry," he said abruptly.

"You should be. People need sleep, Doctor," she said, but without any real anger. He'd always been fairly obsessive about things. If he got a thought in his head he'd be up all night trying to figure it out. Just because this time the stakes seemed to be higher, didn't mean that he was going to change.

"No, I mean…well, yes, I am sorry I kept you up, but actually I was trying to say: I'm sorry for not being a very good husband."

She pulled back slightly in surprise. "What?"

"Well, I've been caught up … and not been very … attentive…" he was frowning at her, but then she was sure she was staring at him in shock. "And…I'm sorry," he finished lamely, giving her an almost pathetically hopeful look.

Rose shook her head, about to ask him when he'd ever been particularly _attentive_ when caught up in his work, but stopped herself with a sigh.

"I'm not a pot plant, Doctor," she said at length. "I'm not going to die if you forget to water me."

"No, but you might just wither away if I'm not careful."

"What? Wives need regular watering?"

He flashed her a sly smile. "Well, I don't know about watering…"

"Eugh! Doctor, that was terrible!" She pushed at his chest lightly, but not so much that she separated them. She was enjoying that his attention was completely focused on her, no matter what she had just told him.

"Yes, it was, wasn't it? Our new friend must be rubbing off on me -" He blinked and sighed at the unintended innuendo. "Forget I said anything."

Rose nearly commented that he wasn't their new friend, that they'd known him much longer, but she didn't really want to distract the Doctor. She liked that he was thinking about her right now. She moved closer, and he tightened his arms around her.

"I love you," he murmured into her hair.

"I love you," she answered back, listening to his heartbeat. "My Doctor."

An almost foreign voice echoed back at her.

 _I want you safe... My Doctor. Protected from the false god._

"Yours," the Doctor agreed, banishing the traces of memory. "Come on, time for bed!" he said suddenly, mood changing again. "Time for sleep … or not. As the case may be."

They made love a little desperately, voices rising quickly in succession, and then falling sharply. Afterwards, Rose lay in her husband's arms, worry holding her to consciousness a little longer. He was so edgy at the moment, which was unlike him. The Doctor was a strong person, and to see him like this unsettled her a little. Well, they'd do their best, and she was sure it'd work out in the end.

As she fell asleep, she was aware that despite her husband's even breathing, he was still stroking her hair lightly.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my lovely, lovely beta, Paranoid Seat. She has my undying gratitude.

**Chapter Five**

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

 _That night the Doctor dreamed._

Doctor who?

Just 'the Doctor'.

 _He dreamed he was an ocean, the rolling surf, a tidal wave that swept across the skies bringing death and destruction, but at the same time cleansing. He pounded a path through the stars, nature in its extreme. He washed away the darkness, but didn_ ' _t limit himself to that. He was unstoppable, and there was no time or place he could not touch._

 _He was eternal, but he had a beginning, and would ultimately have an end. For all he had stood at the beginning of time and watched races begin, become great, and fall into dust again, he was mortal. He would die, and some days he doubted that could come too soon. The sea can be cruel, but he doesn_ ' _t always have a choice._

A doctor? Of what?

Everything.

 _They ran beside him, tiny little souls in the vast emptiness of space. For a while they kept up, but then they turned away. Sometimes he tried to hold on to them, but they dissolved, sliding through his fingers. Other Time Lords wondered why he bothered, what was so important about the small beings. They didn_ ' _t understand, because they were boulders, and it takes grains of sand to make a beach._

What happened?

There was a war, and we lost.

 _The universe was altered as the titans fought in the skies, an angry storm of red -_   
_flames shooting from their hands, burning everything in their path. When at last it ended, all there was left was a beach, stretching out under clear blue. And he was tossed up on the shores to lie on bleached white sand. Beaten, broken, and alone._

My planet's gone. It's dead. It's rocks and dust before its time.

 _He opened his eyes and looked up to see a girl sitting above him, offering him her hand. She was a grain of sand, easily lost, and he was an ocean, a storm that encompassed the beach, the skies, the universe. But she was all he had._

 _He reached out and grasped her hand._

-x-x-x-

The Doctor woke, and with consciousness came awareness. He was not some human to be groggy and unfocused, but a Time Lord whose mind raced with all possibilities.

He had fallen asleep long after his wife – _no_ , long after _Rose_ – trying to find memories that continued to elude his grasp. Well, now he had them back, he wasn't sure it was an improvement, but at least he had an idea about how to fix what was wrong.

Slowly, making sure to keep his breathing even, the Doctor opened his eyes and looked around the room. It was light, with its walls painted white, and contained a number of monitoring systems, a couple of which were connected to him. There were three beds, small and uncomfortable, and he was on one, Rose on another and on the third … Jack! But Jack was … dead? Jack was…? He fought through several layers of altered memory to try and come up with what his eyes were seeing, but when one of the monitors started to beep, he gave up.

With a deep breath, he sighed and let himself be dragged back down into thick murky sleep. They probably wouldn't notice if they thought he was still asleep. He might just be able to fool them long enough that he could get Rose and Jack to safety.

Always assuming, of course, that he remembered what was happening once he was asleep.

-x-x-x-

 _YOU ARE A TIME LORD!_

The Doctor woke up next to Rose – his wife – who was sleeping peacefully at his side, one leg over his own, and an arm across his chest. Her weight was warm and soft, and he didn't move for long moments because it had been so long since he'd last shared a bed with anyone - knowingly - and that it was Rose he treasured. Soon enough he was going to get up and admit to himself that this was all a lie, and he really wasn't allowed such luxuries.

Dim daylight filtered through a gap in the curtain, the sun was up, but just barely. He'd been asleep for one hour and fourteen minutes. Rose had slept for not quite three hours. She would be tired when she woke, her mind telling her that a late night and an early morning did not make a happy mix. On the other hand, he was wide-awake; he'd been asleep for far too long, and _his_ mind was fully aware of it.

A soft sigh escaped his lips as he finally detached himself from Rose and slid out of bed. She mumbled and moved into the space he'd abandoned, her features ironing out as she slid back into a deep sleep. Longing made him reach out and brush her hair lightly, moving a strand out of her eyes. But he wasn't allowed this, it wasn't his to have, so he drew back and padded to the bathroom.

At the sink, he splashed cold water on his face and looked at the man in the mirror. Briefly a series of faces flashed back at him, and he grimaced. Oh yes, it was all there, all ten of him, with three to spare. Time Lord. From the perspective of Doctor Thierry Tyler, that certainly explained a lot. It was not madness, or not particularly madness, no delusions or hallucinations, that had plagued him, but rather the truth pure and simple.

Or not.

What was that excellent quotation? Oh yes: _the truth is rarely pure and never simple._ Oscar Wilde. Human.

He'd believed himself human. What a silly thing to do. He wasn't human, and there'd been times he'd strongly denied such a charge when levelled at him. Yet he'd fairly easily taken to the lie when it was given to him. Which probably said more about his current mental state than he would like to admit.

It hadn't only been his race he'd forgotten though. His planet, his people, the TARDIS – she would not be pleased – the _Time Wars_ , his past companions, and _Susan_. How could he have forgotten her? His own granddaughter? The last piece of family he had lost.

But he knew the answer to that one: because it was easier to forget. He had suppressed the memory of her so forcefully that as the others had surfaced slowly, hers had stayed down. Whether or not the memories would have come back on their own was unknown, but even if they had it would have taken a good long while.

Gently, he tapped Susan to one side and brought forward the other names and faces. Those in his book, and those who he had yet to get to, the living and the dead. He savoured over the bitter-sweetness that came with them, like salt in a wound it stung and cleansed. Had there really been that many? When he reached Romana, he let her slide, another one he was less willing to look at closely; she wasn't the only one – when had he become so attached to them all?

The Doctor realised he was gripping the edge of the sink so much he was hurting his hands and let go, leaving red welts on his palms. When he'd regenerated he'd resolved to put his past behind him. His last life had been moody and brooding. The thought of returning to that had felt wrong, ill-fitting to who he was. As a result he'd become far more cheerful, more energetic, and had seen the approval in Rose's eyes once she'd adjusted.

In his bedroom, he dressed, careful to avoid looking at the sleeping figure on the bed in case he was tempted to join her again. He couldn't avoid her forever, however, and he eventually, cautiously, sat on the edge of the bed beside her. Clothing was such a terrible armour, because it only gave the appearance of protection, it could and would come off so very easily. Especially when the wearer wanted it off.

He didn't wake Rose immediately, instead taking her in, allowing himself this one last moment. Allowing her one last moment. This would devastate her. He was going to take her life as she knew it and shatter it. Never mind that it was a lie, he was still going to break it into millions of pieces. He was still having trouble with the jumble of memories himself, all mixed up like several puzzles in a box, but it would take Rose far longer to sort through her own.

Giving into one last temptation the Doctor gently traced her face with a fingertip. Across her forehead, down her cheek, brush the tip of her nose, and gently over her lips, remembering the feel of them pressed against his own, opening to allow…

He snapped the thoughts off. He knew he was partly responding to the implanted false memories; that they were making him think of Rose as his wife, but it was hard to resist. The effects would eventually dampen, but right now they were predominant, particularly as he was still hooked up to the machinery that was feeding them to him.

Conveniently, he ignored the rest of his response. He knew he loved Rose deeply, but the exact definition of that love was not something he was prepared to explore.

"Rose?" he called. "Rose!"

-x-x-x-

"Rose? Rose! You need to wake up! Come on!" The voice penetrated Rose Tyler's sleeping mind slowly. She groaned and tried to shut it out. Whoever it was, it was far too early to be awake. "Come on, sleepy-head! This is no time to be sleeping - there's work to be done!"

Rose rolled over and pulled the covers over her face. They were abruptly pulled back and out of her reach. She stuck her head under her pillow, but that was wrenched away as well.

"Go away!" she finally cried, opening her eyes to glare at her husband. As soon as she was awake she was filing for divorce.

"What!" she snapped irritably. The alarm clock on the bedside table read 7:02am. Great, two, maybe three hours sleep.

"Come on, Rose, I've figured it out!" He looked a little nervous, but Rose just attributed it to her temper at being woken so early. _He_ ' _d better be worried._ Why he was waking her so early, epiphanies be damned, she had no idea, and she currently didn't care much to find out.

Still, as she was now awake, she sighed and said obligingly, "Figured what out?"

"Where the memories are coming from!" the Doctor exclaimed, still looking anxious, but also starting to look like an excited child. Rose was familiar with that expression, it usually appeared when he made a breakthrough on one of his experiments, or when a student wrote a particularly brilliant essay, or at Christmas time … no, not at Christmas time, because something bad happened then…

"What?" Rose asked, still not entirely clear on what they were talking about. "Where?" She was slowly coming awake, and connecting up what he might be talking about.

"Our real lives! You see, Rose," he continued at her confused look, "this is all a dream. You, me, and Jack – we're all just sleeping. We need to wake up. Just like that!" he snapped his fingers and Rose began to revaluate her position on her husband's mental state.

"I don't understand," Rose said, bemused. "We're asleep?"

"And dreaming - our little minds are running just as fast as they can. We need to wake UP!"

"I don't understand," Rose repeated. He wasn't making sense, at least not to her, she had no doubt he was making perfect sense to himself. She just wished he'd explain. It was far too early for cryptic games.

"I know," the Doctor told her, his eyes serious and dark with something else Rose couldn't comprehend. In one of his lightning mood changes he'd gone from almost dancing with energy to this sombre creature. "But you will. I promise you will. You just need to wake up."

"I am awake," Rose pointed out.

"No. You think you're awake, but you're not. You, me and Jack - we're only sleeping," he repeated.

"Doctor?" she asked, unsure. "Thierry?"

"That's not my name," he said sharply. "Not it at all. But I suppose it was approximate. A close human sound that could be substituted for one of my names. I doubt they'd get anything out of the others. No, they couldn't have known, no," he finished quietly to himself, thinking it over. "Of all the names they could have chosen, they had to pick that one." He sounded vaguely disgusted.

"They?" Wasn't this how schizophrenia began? Should she have been more careful about everything? Insisted on psychiatrists? He was going on about humans again.

"Rose," he said, addressing her directly again. "Do you remember why we stayed with 'Tyler' when we got married?"

"Because I couldn't pronounce your last name, so I wouldn't change mine. So you decided to change yours instead."

"What's my name, Rose?" he asked softly, the darkness in his gaze even more pronounced.

Rose opened her mouth to respond, then closed it, shaking her head in dismay. "I don't remember!"

"Of course you don't. I've never told you my name, Rose, that's why. You always called me Doctor because that's what I told you to. They made up Thierry to fill in the gaps."

Rose drew her knees up to her chest and buried her face in her arms. He was crazy, completely crazy, and it was all her fault. She should have done something earlier because now it was too late. Maybe if she'd tried to get him help they wouldn't be having this insane conversation now. And they'd dragged Jack into it too. What was she supposed to do now?

The bed shifted as she felt him move. Gentle hands crept along the side of her face, and guided her to look up at him. She met his eyes, only to find that his gaze was warm and even and completely sane. With the same infinite care he brushed away teardrops and she distantly reflected that he seemed to doing that a lot lately.

"Oh, Rose. You don't understand, and I'm sorry - but you will. We'll wake up and it'll all be clear, I promise." He paused and she could see something akin to longing in his eyes. "I wish I could kiss you," he whispered.

"Why don't you?" she asked.

"Because it would be wrong. All this time, I haven't known, but now I do – it'd be wrong. I kissed you once and I wasn't meant to, but it saved us."

Confused, Rose opened her mouth to say something, but he pressed a finger to her lips.

"We're not married, Rose, not really. This is a dream. If I kissed you now, I'd know what I was doing, but you wouldn't. That's not right. Do you understand?"

"No," she answered. Part of her wanted to go on believing that he was crazy, that he could be healed, but somehow she knew that he wasn't.

"You will," he promised again. Then he pressed his lips to her forehead, stood up and pulled her with him. "Right now, I need you to get ready. Can you do that? Have a shower and get dressed while I get Jack over here?"

She nodded feeling a slow bitterness rise in her. It'd all been a lie? A dream? Their whole lives? Was that what he was trying to tell her?

Feeling achy and tired, Rose pulled on her robe and had started to head for the bathroom when she was pulled into strong arms. She wrapped her own around his waist and buried her face in his shoulder.

"Every day I've known you, Rose Tyler," he murmured in her ear, "you've shown so much courage and strength. This is just a little bit more and then it'll be over."

He kept promising her things, that it'd be over and that she'd understand. Instinctively, she trusted what he was saying, though the hotter part of her wanted to object, to make him tell her everything he knew. But she was tired, so very, very tired. With a soft sigh he moved closer; whatever aversion he'd suddenly developed to kissing, it didn't seem to extend to hugs, as he tightened his grip on her.

Her head on his chest, she listened to his heartbeat, only to jerk back in surprise. The Doctor didn't let her pull away though, holding on to her, keeping her close.

"Your heart!" she exclaimed. "It's … it's … there's…"

"Hearts," he told her. He placed a soft hand on the side of her face. "There's two."

She didn't need him to guide her to gently listen on either side of his chest, which he did, she believed him completely. No reason dictated her faith, but she new what he was saying was true. So much was clicking into place. Nothing made much sense yet, but there was a pattern emerging.

"You're not human." It wasn't a question, it didn't need to be. "What are you?"

" _Tell me where you're from."_

 _"It doesn't matter! Alright! All that counts is here and now! And this is ME!"_

 _Time Lord._

"I'm a Time Lord," he said so fast on the trail of her thoughts that he could have been speaking them for her.

"And you're the last," she said, feeling utterly certain.

His eyes were so sad and lost as he spoke. "Yes."

Rose pulled him tightly to her, holding him close, and he clutched at her for a moment. She kissed the side of his neck, and rubbed her hands up and down his spine, feeling him tremble in her arms. It didn't last long, and only a few seconds later, she could feel him draw himself together.

They drew apart slightly, bringing their faces closer together. Earlier, the Doctor had told her that he wanted to kiss her, but couldn't. Right now, Rose could see that same longing in his face, could hear it in the slight hitch in his breath, mingling with her own. Taking advantage of the hesitation she could feel in him, Rose tilted her head up and pressed her lips to his.

The kiss lasted mere moments before he drew back sharply, stepping out of her arms, his expression pained. "Get dressed," he said. "I'll call Jack and make breakfast." Then he almost fled the room, leaving an even more confused Rose in his wake.

-x-x-x-

Jack was sitting in the deep armchair, looking as if only sheer force of will was keeping him awake. Rose was stretched out on the couch, looking only slightly more aware. Both of them were pale and drawn, their eyes puffy with tiredness. Stress and lack of sleep had taken their toll, or at least that's what Jack and Rose's minds were telling them. The exhaustion would probably carry over into their physical bodies, but once they were awake adrenaline would kick in fast.

Right now, though, they were just tired. And expectant. The Doctor had used similar promises for Jack as he had for Rose. A little more vague though, he knew from experience that Jack would be far more willing to come out for the promise of information than anything else. Well, Rose would too. Both of them focused on the adventure of discovery. However, Rose had always been a little difficult to drag out of bed in the morning, regardless of the sleep she'd had in the night.

The Doctor sipped the coffee Rose had prepared, and grimaced at the taste. Milk and no sugar. Exactly the way he'd preferred it in his last life, which was interesting. Rose seemed to be remembering things subconsciously, reacting the way she might have reacted in other circumstances, which was fairly typical for someone with suppressed memories. This was evidenced further in her earlier comment about him being the last Time Lord, and if he remembered correctly the previous day she'd referred to Jack as a Captain. Actually, all her reactions to Jack fit that category – she acted as if he were a friend, someone she knew, trusted and liked. Then there was her inability to remember her mother's supposed death, which had of course, never happened.

Rose's interactions with himself were what bothered him the most. Perhaps whatever techniques used to keep the three of them in this state were the cause of that: convincing her that he was her husband and lover more forcefully than anything else. But the fact that she didn't stop to question it was a little disturbing. However, like his own reactions to her, he was not particularly prepared to explore what it meant at this time.

Both of his companions were watching him expectantly, even through their tiredness, and he sighed. Just how was he to explain this to them? Much of what he had to tell them would be speculation, and knowing this pair there would be questions, many, many questions.

"Doctor, you said you knew what was going on?" Jack asked, a little impatiently, and Rose nodded her encouragement.

She was a little wary, which was likely because of how he'd reacted when she'd first woken. He'd bungled that badly, not counting on the fact that whatever binding them was quite that strong. His actions had hurt and confused her, he knew.

"Right!" The Doctor rubbed his hands together, and fought the urge to spring from his seat and start pacing as he explained. "Well, let's see. Jack. I explained this to Rose earlier, but it's probably better I go through it all again.

"Hmmm. Where to start?" A very good question, if he did say so himself. He wasn't sure where it started exactly, or how Jack came to be here. He'd thought Jack dead, killed by the Daleks on the Game Station, except that couldn't be right because Jack himself seemed to remember being there, which meant they hadn't simply gotten an earlier version of Jack, but one who had travelled on the TARDIS with himself and Rose. Rose, who seemed to subconsciously know that Jack was alive, and yet had given all outwardly appearances of believing he was dead after the Game Station and then the affair at Christmas—

"Doctor?" Rose prompted. "You said something about this being a dream?"

There were too many mysteries here. So first things first: beat the bad guys, have some tea and then get on with everything else.

"Yes, I did. Dreaming, hypnotised, drugged. We're certainly in some form of artificially induced trance. Linked together so our minds produced a world that we can all perceive as acceptable. You however, Jack, you interest me, because this is not a time period you've had any great experience with outside of your contact with Rose and yet you've adapted to it with little trouble. But then many things about your presence here trouble me."

"Like what?" Jack asked.

"To start with, the fact that to my knowledge, you were dead. But that is of little matter, at this moment, we can explore that when we're out of this trap."

"What do you mean when you talk about a time period?" Rose asked. "The way you said it sounds like we're from different ones."

"Simply put, we're time travellers," the Doctor explained. "You're actually from the early twenty-first century, and that and a period of forty years prior to your birth are very familiar to me. Jack, however, is from about three thousand years in your future."

Neither of them seemed to be about to deny what was he was saying, which was a positive sign, he hoped. Neither of them were likely to accept anything on face-value, but this could be ringing true with them. The Doctor carried on.

"Somehow, the three of us have been captured and placed into a deep sleep, almost a coma. We seem to be monitored -"

"Why?" asked Rose. "I mean, why is this being done?"

"That's a good question. One that I have yet to ascertain an answer to. It could be anything. Knowing us, we've either stumbled across the paths of some alien research team, or at some point in the past we've offended someone and they've arranged for us to stumble across the path of some alien research team. Many things. We do get into a fair bit of trouble."

"You said we weren't married!" Rose pointed out.

The Doctor winced, not sure how to approach this one. Rose would want the answer, and Jack was looking alert and curious, caution warning him not to speak out of turn, but to glean as much information as he could before speaking.

"We're not," the Doctor said simply at last. Before Rose could throw something else at him, he continued. "Rose, you're my best friend, and it wouldn't be unfair to say you saved me - and not just my life, either, but we're not married." He struggled to find the words that defined their relationship, but failed. She was not only his best friend, but his soul mate, the light in the darkness, the love of his life, and so much very more than 'wife'. Yet how could he tell her all that and then explain why they weren't married, why they weren't even lovers? Right now he couldn't even explain it to himself.

"We can talk about it when we wake up. We can talk it _to death_ when we wake up. Right now, I'd prefer to not go on living this lie. Wouldn't you? It'll be easier to figure out what is really happening once we wake up."

"So how do we wake up?" asked Jack.

"Well you can't. Not like this. Whatever they're using to keep us asleep is designed for humans, and you won't be able to wake from it. I can though!" he said cheerfully to their sudden alarm. "I'm not human, remember. They can't keep me asleep. I'm only here because I want to be. I'll wake you up, like I woke Rose up this morning, and you Jack. It'll be unpleasant and you won't know where you are, but I'll wake you up. And then we can fight the bad guys and go home for a cup of tea." Easier said than done, but they didn't need to know that right now.

First things first. Last things last, and everything else in between. He didn't know if he could tell them what really happened on the Game Station, but they were going to ask, and he didn't think he could evade this time either. Jack was alive and he had no reasonable explanation for it other than Rose and the Time Vortex.

But that was later. Part of the last. Now was now, and now was time to wake up.

WAKE UP.

He woke up in the small white room, and immediately sat up, pulling little bits of wire out of his skin. They stung and tore, leaving thin, stinging cuts along his arms, and one in the back of his neck. Electrodes – clunky inaccurate technology – came off his forehead and chest. The machines he had been connected to were now screaming in protest and somehow he doubted it would be long before someone came to investigate, and probably at a run too.

Urgency led him first to Rose's bed and then to Jack's, removing all equipment from their bodies. His knees felt like jelly and wobbled precariously under him. It had only been a few days since he'd last used his legs, he guessed, but it was enough to make things even more difficult to get out of this place, wherever they were. And they still had to find the TARDIS, not that it would be hard. Already, he could feel the warm presence of his ship in his mind and he hadn't realised how much he had missed her. How lonely it had been.

He winced as he pulled the wires out of Rose; they tore her flesh like tissue paper, and it hurt more than his own wounds, but he did it because he knew staying like this was infinitely worse than the small pain of removing it. Even if it did mean they now had to deal with real life. Surprisingly it was no easier to mark Jack's skin, or to see the red mark left by an improperly placed electrode. Dermal regenerators would take care of the superficial marks, the Doctor knew, but it didn't really help him to feel better.

Neither human woke immediately, and he supposed that even though he'd removed what appeared to be some sort of intravenous feed of sedatives, it would take some time for them to wake up. Hopefully, the continuous nature of the drip indicated that it needed to constantly feed into their systems, and with it removed the effects would wear off fairly quickly. From what he could see there was no counter-drug, and if there was, it'd hardly be left lying around. Which was a pity, it really would be easier for him if the bad guys left counter-agents and secrets of state where he could get to them without trouble. But that might be asking too much.

Jack moaned a little and the Doctor jumped. Good, that was fast. No one had come running, so maybe this would work after all. They could get out, get to the TARDIS and be away before anyone could find them. Then they would regroup, could back to stop the bad guys and have a much needed cup of tea. And possibly a nap.

However, the universe had never been that kind to the Doctor and wasn't about to start now. The door to the small room swung open and a being that the Doctor didn't recognise strode through, only to freeze when it saw him there, standing in the middle of the room. He stood there and stared back, waiting for it to speak. Obviously he'd caught it off guard, and that was good.

The being was bipedal, and had two arms. Its body was rotund and small, while its limbs were long and thin, and its head almost as big as its mid section. The picture presented was of a being that was misshapen, almost deformed. An unworthy observation, but then he was still thinking as a human, and humans did tend to be unfair in what they saw as being different. There was an air that seemed to scream 'scientist' about the being, but he wondered if he was just assuming things again. Although it didn't seem like another unfair assumption. But then being locked up and drugged didn't seem to bring out the best in him.

"Hello," he said, as cheerfully as he could manage. Carefully, without making any sudden movements, he checked Rose's pulse. It was a little slow, but even. Her eyelids fluttered but didn't open. From his bed Jack groaned again and his mouth moved. "How are you today? Not so good, I'm thinking, because three of your subjects are going to get up and walk out of their study. This is what this is, isn't it? A study? In human behaviour, right? You're a scientist, aren't you? You do know this contravenes a number of Universal rights, don't you? There are laws. I know, I've read about them. Not sure I could recall them off the top of my head, but if you want I could try. No? Well, then you'll just have to believe me, and as soon as my companions wake up, we'll be off."

"You can't do that!" protested the being. "You're not even supposed to be awake – how did you wake up?"

"Ah, you know, you should research humans a little better – if you did you'd find out that they have only one heart, which is a silly system to be sure, but it seems to follow through the universe. Most beings only have one. Five races have two. Two of those races are extinct and one of them never even existed. But that's not important – hmm, I seem to be saying that a lot today – that's not important. What is important is that you let me and my companions go home now."

"I can't do that!" hissed the being, ridges of skin flaring on the sides of its head, and long sharp teeth were revealed, along with long, sharp retractable claws. The sort of thing you might find on a carnivorous and dangerous creature. Not at all reassuring.

Movement attracted his attention, though he didn't take his eyes off the being. Jack was slowly sitting up and, rubbing his face. Rose let out a soft sigh and wriggled her hips, a sure sign she was moments from full consciousness. Good, at least one thing was going his way.

Unfortunately, it was the only thing. Before he had time to react, or come up with a cunning plan, the being sprang at him.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my lovely betas ParaniodSeat and Eeveekitty!

**Chapter Six**

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The Doctor dropped to the floor. The creature slashed one long claw where his head had been a minute before. He hoped the intention had been to knock him unconscious rather than decapitate him, but he wasn't holding his breath.

Behind the being, Jack slid off his bed and had to catch himself before his knees gave out beneath him. Rose was sitting up now, looking around, comprehension dawning on her face. The Doctor, though, kept his attention on his foe. Anything willing to take a swipe at him like that was likely to do so again, and hopefully he could distract it from what Jack and Rose were getting up to.

"Now that wasn't very nice," he said, ducking another swipe. "Not at all welcoming. Obviously, someone was never taught manners by their mother - or didn't you have a mother? That would explain a lot. But it's never too late to learn these things, perhaps you should try." Jack was half-stumbling to a position behind the being, who took a third swipe at the Doctor. The Doctor looked around for something to use to knock the creature back, or better yet, knock it unconscious. He couldn't see anything in the immediate vicinity.

Rose was now pulling herself upright, and was also looking for something to stop the being. She stumbled and caught at the bed sheet. The Doctor threw himself behind his own bed to avoid yet another slash from the being, who seemed to be getting more and more enraged. Its skin had turned a purplish colour, and it was hissing madly at him, apparently beyond words.

"If you don't mind me saying," the Doctor began, a weapon finally in reach. Admittedly, it was a poor one, but Jack, struggling with his weakened muscles, was picking up a monitor, and that would do very well. Rose was pulling the sheet off her bed. The Doctor grinned; he knew he'd kept these two around for a reason. "You don't seem to be the calm rational sort that suits this profession - like you'd get upset at the slightest frustration, not at all patient. It can't be good for your studies. Also it doesn't do much for your focus."

He shoved the bed at the being, hard enough to knock it over. Never let it be said that hospital beds don't have their uses. The creature stumbled, off-balance, and Rose took the opportunity to throw her sheet over it. Between them they held it down while the being struggled against the sudden captivity. It was fleeting, however; long claws slashed at the cloth and the Doctor was alarmed to see how easily they cut the fabric - he didn't want to know what they might have done to his head.

Luckily, Jack was ready with the heavy monitor which he brought down on to the creature's head. Well, dropped on the creature's head, as it seemed to fall out of his hands more than anything. But it worked, and the being tumbled over, unconscious.

The three of them stood around for a moment, just looking at each other. They were all dressed in loose, white smocks, which thankfully were closed at the back. The Doctor reflected that it could've be quite embarrassing if it had been otherwise. Well, it might show off his mole, but that'd be all. Actually, Jack'd probably appreciate the chance to show off his rear.

Rose moved first. "Jack," she breathed and was in the other man's arms a heartbeat later. Jack caught her and pulled her to him as they both staggered, clearly unsteady on their feet.

The Doctor pushed back a surge of jealousy which said 'she's my wife', because Rose wasn't. Jack was her best friend, and they hadn't seen each other since the Game Station. A minute later, Jack released Rose and turned to him, eyes dark and confused.

"Doctor?" he asked. Of course. The last time, he'd seen Jack, he'd looked vastly different. And due to their experiences, none of them had a very clear idea about which memory was which yet. In the general confusion, Jack was probably only a step away from demanding to know who he was.

"Hello!" he said cheerfully. "Yes, it's me! Different packaging - came with a mole and everything - and I'm a lot ruder, and I talk a lot (at least everyone tells me I do) but you can't please everyone, I guess."

Jack looked at Rose, still uncertain, and she nodded. "He really likes the mole," she confirmed.

"I've never had one before!" he protested. "But we can't stand around chatting all day. Sleepy will wake up soon, and I don't think we want to be here when he does. The TARDIS is around here somewhere, and we should find somewhere else to be, I'm sure - all of time and space at our fingertips, remember?" He could feel his ship, his wonderful, amazing, _fantastic_ ship reaching for him, and he reached back. She was all he had left after losing his world, and when the quietness in his head was too much, she was always there, humming softly.

Jack was still looking at him, and now the Doctor could tell that he was quite unnerved. "I'd heard…" the other man murmured, but he didn't continue, leaving the Doctor to wonder at his statement. His hand lifted slightly towards the Doctor - to touch him, to confirm his reality? - but quickly dropped, turning to see what Rose was doing. Rose was already at the door, looking out and beckoning behind her.

"It's clear," she called.

The figure on the floor was beginning to stir so the two men followed Rose out of the door, and the Doctor pulled it shut behind him, hearing what sounded like a lock clicking into place. Good, it should hold the being for a few moments longer, once it was awake. Hopefully there were no alarms or communication units inside the room.

Clicking footsteps echoed down the corridor, and a second being turned the corner. It came to an immediate stop when it saw the three of them, seemingly stunned. They still lacked any kind of weapons, so the Doctor hoped this one would be easier to get past than its colleague.

"You are not supposed to be wandering these halls," it commented, the ridges on its head flaring.

"Well, then perhaps you could point us to the exit," the Doctor said cheerfully. He felt Jack and Rose shifting beside him; no doubt preparing for a fight, or to run away. He hoped it wouldn't come to either of those, as in their weakened states none of them were going to get very far.

"You are subjects, you should be returned to your area. Your study is not complete yet."

"Yes, about that. I'd like to lodge a formal complaint about our treatment as subjects. It wasn't very fair. I don't remember signing any pieces of paper agreeing to be a subject. Rose? Jack? How about you? Did you sign away your lives for science? No? Well, then I really have to say, as I told your colleague, that you've broken several major laws by holding us here. Now!" he cried and turned tail. As much he had hoped it wouldn't be so, he got the feeling that the only way they were going to get out of this, was to run.

Rose and Jack were at his side and the three of them fled down the hall and around the corner. Behind them the being gave chase, startled enough to give them a head start. Unfortunately, it had a much better idea about the layout of the building than they did, and the Doctor suspected that it might attempt to herd them somewhere they could be caught. So far as he could tell, there had been no alarm yet, which meant they were either alone with these two beings or the alarm was undetectable to humans and Gallifreyans. He was betting on the latter, but they still hadn't encountered anyone else.

To his left, Rose stumbled, and he reached out to capture her arm to try and hold her upright, but he was nearly as unsteady and they both went down hard. Dazed eyes were suddenly looking into his own from inches away, and a warm body was pressed against his, a leg between his legs. Thankfully, Jack was helping them up and urging them on, tugging at their arms, as the clicking steps of the alien came closer to where they were.

They found a door, small and discrete and a lot like a broom closet, tucked down a narrower corridor, with little else to alleviate the oppressiveness of the pale concrete walls or dim the echoing steps of their hunter. The door was locked, and the Doctor had no sonic screwdriver to unlock it with, so he intended to run past it. Besides, the TARDIS was down the corridor and around the corner - he could feel her reaching out to him.

A third member of the race took that moment, just as they were running past it, to open the door. As much as the Doctor had been intending on running straight past it, they were being chased and he didn't have the energy to keep this chase going much longer. Taking the opportunity presented, he forced his way through, pushing the alien back in with him, Rose and Jack bringing up the rear. Between himself and Jack they should be able to override the lock and keep it from opening.

The room was fairly large, and seemed to be the main area for data analysis. There was a bank of computers along one wall and what looked like several view screens in one corner. Some technical equipment, scanners and the like, sat on a stand to one side of the door. A couple of charts that seemed to display some sort of statistical data hung along another wall, while there was what looked suspiciously like a whiteboard with details of human reproduction on it, including some of the factors known to induce attraction. Overall, it wasn't completely unexpected, but it still disturbed the Doctor, when he considered that he'd been part of whatever they'd been trying to study here.

"Jack, keep the door shut," he ordered. The longer they had in here the better, it seemed. He caught a brief glimpse of something passing over the human's features as he turned to do as the Doctor asked, but there was no chance to analyse it just yet. He turned to meet the alien to try and work out what was happening and what he was going to do about it. Rose was standing off to one side, glaring at the alien, but not getting too close.

The alien was already hissing as the Doctor tried to identify the species. Something was tickling the back of his brain, but he couldn't draw it far enough forward. He wasn't sure if it was just because it was such a distant memory or because all of the brainwashing that he must have undergone to get him to believe he was a human had forced the memories back.

"This is unprecedented," it hissed. But it made no move to attack any of the three. A memory nagged at the back of the Doctor's mind, and he tried to tease it forward, but it wasn't ready to come yet.

"What? Your subjects escaping? You've kept us here unlawfully! You played with our memories, with our minds!" the Doctor snapped back, feeling his ire rise now that he had some time to stop and think clearly. Jack was playing with the keypad by the door, but leaning against the wall a little more heavily than he should. Rose was pale and swayed on her feet, and while she watched their captor she still looked dazed and confused.

"What were you doing with us?" he asked sharply, needing to know the point of all this.

"Studying human behaviour habits," the being said calmly. "We wish to know how different species react to different stimuli, how their relationships work." The being's voice stayed even, though the ridges on its head were starting to flare. "Now please return to your rooms to be put back into your simulation. The longer you are out, the more inconsistencies there will be in our data."

The Doctor was actually stunned into silence for a moment. It actually expected himself, Jack and Rose to just submit. Across from him, Rose's face had cleared and she stared at the being in disbelief. Jack straightened up from a small viewscreen he'd found of the corridors outside, also staring.

"No," the Doctor said at last. "We will not."

"Whiy yus?" asked Rose. She was still swaying a little on her feet, and the Doctor didn't like how pale she was, nor the slurring of her words. She'd been stable and coherent when they'd woken.

"You were sent to us with recommendations for a simulation that we've been looking for subjects for -"

"And you just accepted it - you didn't bother to question who those subjects might be, and whether or not they might object to having their minds played with, manipulated?"

"The source was a reputable one." The Doctor could now hear anger in the being's tone, and the ridges on its head flared out completely. That was all right, he was angry too, and he was going to let that anger grow, because Rose was still swaying worryingly and Jack was leaning on the wall, glaring at a scanner he'd picked up.

"And that makes it acceptable?" he bit out. "You used our minds for your own purposes. You used other beings' minds for your own purposes. This cannot be allowed to continue, I won't let it - I assure you of that!"

"Doctor, we haven't got long until security reaches us. And that door won't hold forever," Jack said, looking up from his view screen.

True to their experience of this race, the being took the Doctor's momentary distraction and attacked. However it hadn't take into account Rose, who grabbed what might've been a chair or a small table or something less definable and smacked it into the oncoming alien, which crumpled to the floor.

Unfortunately, Rose's balance still wasn't at its best and she went down with the now broken piece of furniture and the alien. She cried out as she landed, and the Doctor hurried forward to help her up, snagging the being's key-card as he did so. Once standing, Rose was completely colourless, and was holding her wrist. She swayed, doubled over and threw up, barely missing her bare feet. All that saved her was that days of being drip-fed left her with little more than bile to bring up.

"Easy," he told her, brushing her hair out of her face, and kissing her forehead. She looked up at him, eyes unfocused and blank as she hung limply in his arms.

"Doctor," warned Jack.

He would have liked the opportunity to use the computers, which looked suspiciously like late 97th century Earth technology, to find out why they'd been held, and more importantly, who was responsible for bringing them here. But Jack was right; it wouldn't be long now before someone came to get them, if they weren't already standing outside the door trying to get in at this moment. There'd be time later to find out what was going on - provided he could get them all back to the TARDIS.

In response to his last thought, the door control sparked warningly, and Jack glared at the small device in his hands. "They're here."

"That way." The Doctor pointed at a second door. "Any way of telling what's beyond that door?"

Jack moved the device, which seemed to be some sort of scanner. "Another room. Empty."

Without waiting for further comment, the Doctor swiped his key through the slot, wrenched the door open and, pulling Rose along with him, went through.

-x-x-x-

Jack followed the Doctor through the door, mostly because he had nowhere else to go. Right now, he was going along with the Doctor's direction because the Time Lord was good at this, and if anyone could get them out it was him. This did not mean that Jack was happy about the situation: Jack wasn't at all sure how he felt about this new, strange version of the Doctor.

As thrilled as he was at seeing his friends, Jack was still fighting images from the simulation they'd been put under, combined with the almost overwhelming memory of waking up from the dead on the Game Station to hear the whine of the TARDIS dematerialising. He was functioning on adrenaline, and anything other than that just felt upside down.

The room they entered appeared to be a record storage of some sort to go with the room they'd just vacated. Jack slammed the door shut, clicking a lock into place as he did so, and apart from the glowing screen of the scanner in his hand, the room was pitched into darkness. He swung the device around to try and find a door, but received a surprise.

"Doctor! The TARDIS is -"

"Next door, yes, I know, I can feel her," said the disembodied voice out of the dark. Jack's response was to instinctively grab for his non-existent sonic blaster - it wasn't the Doctor's voice. Then he forced himself to relax, reminding himself that it was the Doctor, just a new voice. "We need a door, Jack." The tone was impatient, and he snapped back into focus.

Escape, right Recover memories later. Again. Why did this keep happening to him? Why did people keep thinking they had the right to mess with his head?

"Jack!" the Doctor said again, a little more desperate. There was rustling at the door behind them. He'd rigged the outer door, but hadn't had time to do the second one yet; they'd be through any minute. The scanner swam in and out of focus as Jack desperately tried to find a door, a way out. The picture blurred in front of him, but at last he located it.

The scanner fell from his suddenly clumsy fingers as he felt a wave of nausea wash over him. Pushing it back, he stooped to retrieve the scanner, but a cool hand gripped his wrist. "Leave it," the Doctor commanded. "Come on. Show me where the door is."

Jack pointed with his free hand, and then realised the Doctor couldn't see him. "Thish way," he slurred, and tugged slightly at his arm, stepping in the general direction. Oh, losing verbal functions, not good. He fumbled at the door, and desperately hoped that it was only locked from the outside. The Doctor pushed him aside, and Jack realised the other man still had the filched key-card.

When the door swung open, Jack staggered through without thinking to check, and was immediately met by a blaster, pointed at him by whatever passed as security. A voice from behind him yelled, "Grenade!" and he instinctively ducked as something hurtled over his head at the guard. The guard took no chances and barrelled around the corner. Jack was shoved from behind and nearly fell. "Run!" commanded the same voice, and Jack was compelled to obey.

He was guided down the corridor, a hand on his back, and stopped by a door, where he leaned against the wall and watched as a strange man balanced an unconscious woman - Rose? - and swiped a key-card through a slot. The door opened and the man pushed Jack through and dragged Rose with him, slamming the door behind them.

"Doc'or?" he asked, wondering if this man could help him, he really wasn't feeling well. The world was moving around in front of his eyes, nausea was surging up and his head felt like it was going to split into two. Dropping to his knees, he threw up bile on the wooden floor.

A hand settled on his back, and he looked up into a pair of warm, sympathetic eyes. "It's all right, Jack, you're just reacting to the drugs they gave you. As soon as we get into the TARDIS, I'll find something to help you and Rose." Jack nodded in response.

Rose was laid down beside him, her eyes closed, lids dark against her almost bloodless face. Jack sat up a little, and watched as the Doctor located several small cartons beside a big blue box, which said Police Public Call Box on it. _Home_. The Doctor seemed pleased when he pulled something small and shiny out of one of the cartons and then used it to open the door to the Police Public Call Box and quickly shoved the cartons inside. He then returned for Rose, picking her up and carrying her into the box. _Home._

The Doctor returned to Jack, helped him to his feet and guided him to the box. Jack stopped at the door, looking at the sight before him. "Bigger on th' i'thide." Behind him, he could hear the main door to their storage room opening.

"Yes, now come on." Jack felt his arm jerked roughly, but his legs refused to work. Then the world went black, and nothing mattered anymore.

-x-x-x-

The Doctor swore when Jack went limp in his arms. Earlier, in the dark store room, when Rose had lost consciousness, he'd only just been able to catch her. Now, Jack's weight combined with the fact the Doctor was also suffering from the after-effects of the drugs and enforced sleep, meant that the human slid out of his arms and on to the floor. He winced when Jack's head cracked against the metal grill, but could do little more than kick his companion's feet over the threshold and slam the door as the first shots were fired from outside.

Much as it had Jack and Rose, nausea swamped him accompanied by a splitting headache and confusion. He tripped on his way over to the console, grazing his palms badly when he fell, but he managed to get there eventually, and even made a passable job at getting them into the vortex. The institute they had been held at needed to be dealt with, but now they had left he could treat his companions and then return seconds after they left, before anyone had time to do anything stupid like destroy valuable records or blow the building up.

He caught himself on the edge of the console and sucked in a couple of deep breaths. He forced back the bile that threatened to rise, and turned back to where his companions lay sprawled on the floor. They needed him right now. Still, he couldn't help but sink to the floor, sucking in oxygen to try and clear his head. He reached for the TARDIS and she responded, giving him strength and focus, welcoming him home, but also letting him know she wasn't happy with him for forgetting her. All of it was said without words, and in a fraction of a second, but he soaked in the presence of the one thing that had been with him for all of his lives, his one constant.

Finally, he had the strength to pull himself to his feet and go over to Rose, pick her up and carry her down to the infirmary. He set her on one of the beds, gave her a quick kiss, and then turned to a long, narrow compartment and pulled out a stretcher for Jack. The stretcher would sit on the floor and then hover at waist-height once Jack was on it. A blessing for the Doctor, who, despite the intervention from the TARDIS, was starting to feel distinctively worse for wear.

With both companions in the infirmary he began the diagnostics. Jack had a mild concussion and Rose's wrist was fractured, but they were easy injuries to repair. Nothing else serious, just the drugs - mostly sedatives and hallucinogens - and with a few hours sleep, they'd be fine. They'd have splitting headaches, and possibly struggle to eat anything solid for a couple of days, but they'd be all right. Physically.

For good measure, he turned the diagnostic tools on himself. He appeared to have the same symptoms as Jack and Rose, but much milder. He wouldn't have any at all if his genetics weren't so close to human, but there was nothing he could do about it. Except sleep. There was a third bed waiting for him. He was tempted to crawl in with Rose, but he resisted - with difficulty - and instead used the spare bed.

-x-x-x-

Rose woke slowly, feeling foggy and as if everything weren't quite real. She was lying on a bed, surrounded by white walls, attached to machines. The Doctor had said they were dreaming, that none of their life together was real. That they weren't married. They needed to wake up.

So they woke up. She woke up. She woke up here, but the Doctor, where was the Doctor? They needed to get out, because something was making them sleep and they were not married, but they were married and Jack … and Jack … Jack was alive! He died, but was alive, and no one knew who Susan Foreman was…

A familiar face hovered over her and smiled reassuringly. "Rose, how are you feeling?"

"Doctor?"

His smile widened. "Hello." He held a scanner over her and pressed a few buttons, then ran it along the length of her body. "Well, you're doing better. The drugs aren't quite gone from your system, though."

"We need to get out," she told him as seriously as she could, trying to convey the importance through the still foggy state of her mind. He didn't seem to understand the urgency; he never seemed to understand the urgency when it came to escaping. "We were dreaming and we need to get out, before they make us dream again." She remembered that. They were going to make them dream again, even after the Doctor told them no. It was not a good idea to do something when the Doctor said no…

"No. We're safe now, Rose." He stroked her hair, and she leaned into his touch. "Do you know where we are?"

She thought about it as he helped her to sit up. All around them was a faint humming. A humming that meant she was safe. "The TARDIS."

His smile only got wider. "That's right! Do you know what the TARDIS is?" he brought her a glass of water and steadied her shaking hands as she brought it to her lips, holding the cool liquid in her mouth before swallowing.

"'S a ship. Travels anywhere, all over space, all over time."

"Yes. And where do you come from, Rose?" he asked. This question was a bit harder to find answer for in the fog in her head.

"Powell Estate," she said at last, blinking at him and hoping it was the right answer.

The twinkle in his eye told her it was. "And when are you from?"

"2005!" The answer matched the previous one so she assumed it was what he was looking for.

"And when's my birthday?"

"June 23rd." As soon as she said it, she knew it was the wrong answer, it was written all over his face. She didn't know why, because there was no contradiction in her head. The only birthday she had for him was June 23rd, he had no other birthday … oh.

He sighed softly. "Do you remember what happened?"

"We were married, but you said we weren't? They were studying us? But we got away? Are we married?"

"No," he answered softly, sadly. Her last question only, she noticed.

"Oh," she said. For no particular reason, hot tears spilled out her eyes, then her stomach lurched and she gagged. A bowl appeared in front of her face, and she threw up the little bit of water she'd had. Once it was gone, she retched dryly for a few moments, before leaning back feeling utterly miserable.

The cup once again was brought to her lips and she drank some more, slower this time. Her stomach churned dangerously, but everything stayed where it was. His cool fingers brushed across her forehead, and through her hair. Her eyes drifted closed, but she watched him through her eyelashes

"They'll come back. They're all up there somewhere. It's going to take a few days, but they'll come back." She didn't understand what he was talking about. But she liked the way he was touching her, it made her feel a little better.

"You tricked me," she said thickly, as unconsciousness pulled at her. "You don't have a birthday." Then she was gone.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Notes:** Dedicated to my sister. She's never going to read this, but she wanted a character named after her. Well, I ran out of characters so she got an alien race.
> 
> Big thanks and much gratitude to Paranoid Seat. She has given me so much support on this and put up with a lot of bad grammatical errors.

**Chapter Seven A  
**

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Jack looked like he had been dragged behind wild horses. Rose didn't look any better. They'd been awake and aware for a couple of hours now, after nearly thirty-six hours of sleep. The drugs had taken longer to wear off than the Doctor had originally predicted, and even after all traces had been purged from both humans they'd still been mentally exhausted, sleeping another half a day.

Both had woken a few times throughout, slowly gaining coherency. Rose had asked questions each time, trying to figure out what exactly was going on and which memories were correct. It would have been easier, he suspected, if the memories had simply been laid over her old ones. However in all three of them, the memories had been carefully entwined with existing memories, thoughts and emotions, so successfully in fact that it was difficult for even him, a Time Lord, to completely straighten out, let alone a human.

He could clearly remember his family dying. Losing every part of it – even if the majority of them had disowned him centuries earlier - in one devastating blow. Yet it was still taking him a moment to remember that it had been Gallifrey's destruction and not a housefire that had killed them.

Jack had been quieter than Rose, and more disorientated.

On one particular occasion, the Doctor, having just finished dealing with their alien captors, turned to find his former companion behind him, demanding to know what the Doctor was doing there in his shop when he'd specifically asked him and his wife never to come back. Before the Doctor had a chance to respond, Jack had then told him Rose was having a nightmare and needed help, seemingly unaware of the demands he'd just made.

Escorting Jack back to the med bay and settling him into a bed, where the human had promptly lost consciousness, the Doctor had found Rose in the grip of a nightmare. Apparently she was dreaming of her mother's funeral, empty coffins and the walking dead, or so she'd gasped into his shoulder when he'd woken her up. After she'd calmed down, he'd thought she was becoming more aware, until she'd tried to kiss him. Unfortunately, it had taken him a few moments to remember that he was supposed to resist her; this wouldn't help them recover, and he was the one with the 'higher intelligence'. Even more unfortunate was the fact that he enjoyed it at least as much as he ever had in their dream state.

Jack's further awakenings had proven very little other than confusion and an extreme reticence so uncharacteristic that the Doctor had scanned his friend three times with the most sophisticated equipment he had, to make sure there wasn't any brain damage. The human mind was exceedingly fragile and Jack's had already undergone severe alterations while he was a Time Agent.

The Doctor's concerns had been made worse when he discovered records of the previous victims of the study, none of whom had ever recovered. Nearly a third had heart attacks upon being woken up, half of which had been fatal, and most of the rest had heart troubles – a combined effect of the shock to the body and natural wear and tear from the drugs. All of the surviving subjects had been institutionalised, and would probably remain that way for the rest of their lives.

His only consolation was that all of the other subjects had been under for months, if not years, whereas Rose, Jack and himself had been there five days. The memories extended back for a lifetime, but they weren't as real as they could have been after months in the dreamstate. The processes used partially relied on the brain creating credible memories to go with the information supplied, rather than just giving the whole and perfect memories from the start. So the longer spent in dreamstate the more the brain would convince the subject that these false memories were real, resulting in a shock too great for the body to handle upon waking.

As it was, the Doctor, Rose and Jack were all suffering from various amounts of confusion about what was real and what wasn't. However, they could now start to consciously discern between what was true and what was false, even if they all unconsciously made mistakes now and again. Rose had briefly panicked when she couldn't remember where she'd buried her mother, and as the Doctor had comforted her quietly he'd wondered where he'd buried his family. At one point Jack had been staring at the TARDIS console and confided to the Doctor he couldn't remember how to fly a time ship. However, when given a few moments thought, the correct memories returned, easily identified against the fading implanted ones. Now the Doctor just had to fight his emotions back into place, and stop wanting to crawl into bed with Rose.

Jack took a deep drink of coffee, and Rose fingers danced over the rim of her cup, neither of them looked at the Doctor or at each other. He'd already explained to them that he'd gone back and copied all the relevant files on them, before sending a virus through the computer system to destroy any trace that they were there. Once he'd done that, he'd sent local sector authorities a tip off. After he was done, he'd gone forward a month, relative time, to find out what happened. The centre they'd been housed in had been shut down, and the beings keeping them there had been arrested. However, the authorities had managed to locate information that suggested further institutes, but there was nothing on how to locate these places, or the people who ran them.

"So why did they want us?" Rose asked at last, breaking the silence that had been bearing down on them.

This was the one he was least looking forward to answering, because it bothered him that someone knew them that well, knew enough to be able to manipulate them all ... and he didn't want to have to tell Rose and Jack that.

"Doctor?" Rose asked again, and he looked up from the top of the table to find that now both Jack and Rose were focused on him. Idly, he reflected he needed to find some time to talk to Jack about the past, as much as he didn't want to – another unpleasant task thrust upon him by the circumstances. But that was what happened when you spent too much time with humans – or anyone really – after a while it wasn't just running around the universe anymore.

"They're studying human – amongst other species – behaviour. In our case, they wanted to know some of the factors that differentiated romantic relationships from friendships, and what causes sexual attraction as opposed to a more intellectual attraction, and how to break those bonds." Specifically, they'd wanted to know what might turn apparent intellectual attraction to sexual attraction. The three of them had been offered as good subjects, altering his relationship to Rose and then adding in Jack to see whether they could turn the deep friendship both he and Rose felt for the other human into something different, and how that would alter their relationships.

"I don't understand," Jack said. "What were they doing?"

He didn't want to tell them, he really didn't want to tell them. "They wanted to see if, given suitable motivation, either Rose or I would be convinced to sleep with you, and how that would alter interactions between the three of us."

Jack looked taken aback, but that quickly changed to resignation. Rose paled and gripped the edge of the table. "They wanted to see who would have s—? But why? And why us?" asked Rose.

"Why not us?" The Doctor countered. "And as for why would they be doing something like that, well, it's all about research – knowledge is power after all. They have hundreds of centres of research all over the galaxy, all hidden, all looking at different aspects of reproduction and adaptation in a variety of species – all of them using live subjects. Why they chose us – well, we were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or we've angered someone who's decided that this is suitable punishment – the aliens, the Jenn they were called, weren't much into asking questions about where the subjects for their studies come from. Which is very silly really, because when you think about it, the subjects could be anything – compromise the data, by not even being human…" who knew what they could have got? He would have thought a scientific race would be a little more curious about the fact that their supposed human had two hearts!

"But you've stopped them now?" asked Rose.

"I stopped the ones that held us, yes."

"But not all of them." When he shook his head, she continued. "Doctor, we have to do something." He felt a surge of pride in her, because even after what she had been through she wanted to stop them, not from revenge, but out of a genuine need to help others. However, he was still worried; anger and fear would have reassured him as they were natural human responses and if Rose wasn't feeling them yet that only meant that she would, and the longer it took, the worse it would be.

"We will, Rose, we will, but first I feel like a holiday. Don't you feel like a holiday? Jack? How about you, or do you want to go back to ... where were you? Jack?" He turned to look at his friend, only to find that Jack's head was resting on his arm, sprawled across the table top, asleep. Rose was looking at him, tiredly. "Well, maybe we'll have another nap first, then." Rose nodded blearily. "Go to bed, Rose," he said when she didn't move, glancing at Jack, clearly concerned. "I'll make sure Jack gets to his own bed."

With something like relief, Rose stood and headed for the door. The Doctor pushed himself up, torn between finding one of the stretchers and waking the other man up, when Rose turned back and with a couple of quick strides was standing in front of him. Before he could react, she'd pressed a quick kiss to his lips and was gone again. Stunned, he stood still for a moment, Jack's quiet breathing the only sound in the room. There'd been no passion in the kiss – it had been completely chaste, but sweet and warm – and for all his considerable brain power, he had no idea what it meant.

-x-x-x-

"Didn't I just put you to bed?" asked a smooth voice from the doorway, and Jack paused in the middle of making a pot of tea (tea? Why tea? He hadn't even drunk the stuff before coming on board the TARDIS), but didn't turn around. He knew it was the Doctor; although the man didn't look like the Doctor, didn't sound or talk like the Doctor, didn't even move like the Doctor. Through all the confusion of the last few days, trying to work out which memories were real - made that much difficult by the Time Agency's earlier interference - he'd also started assimilating his memories of the old Doctor and the new one.

"I woke up again." Jack's sleep had been so restless, but then he'd slept so much over the last few days that he supposed it was bound to have an effect sooner or later. He just wished he didn't feel so tired. He also wished that he didn't have to face the Doctor just yet; he wasn't quite sure he knew how he wanted the conversation to go.

Apparently the Doctor was also a little unsure himself – particularly for someone who had admitted to being talkative – and stood in the doorway. Not that Jack was doing much better; it was difficult to know what to say when you didn't even know what to think. This man had once been his best friend, and yet he'd abandoned Jack on an empty satellite, and the two images were hard to match up. Confusion, betrayal and love just chased themselves around in Jack's mind, not staying still long enough for him to pick one and stick with it.

So he focused on the tea, carefully running through the instructions that Rose had once heavily enforced when teaching him how to make tea, and kept half an eye on the Doctor, trying to become familiar with this newer version, his looks and his stance.

"You can look at me directly." Jack winced. Caught. He turned his eyes back to the teapot. The Doctor carried on. "You won't be turned to stone, although that didn't actually happen anyway. Well, not to actual stone. The Medusa actually froze her victims blood; you get too close and _zap_ , your organs were ice, your blood was ice, everything was ice. Of course, I don't know how a Medusa ended up on Earth, let alone survived the climate, but she didn't actually turn people to stone. I guess it was more dramatic to the Greeks than 'ice cube', and the Greeks did love their tragedies. Mind if I have a cup?" he asked from Jack's elbow.

Jack nearly jumped, only his finely tuned Time Agency-trained reflexes keeping him still, teacup only just wobbling. So this is what the Doctor meant by talkative? Even if Jack had been fully awake, he doubted he could have followed half of the speech on ... what, the Medusa? But he carefully poured a second cup of tea, which the Doctor appropriated before he could add any sugar. He guessed that, along with everything else, the Doctor's taste buds had changed, and he found the idea hard to wrap his mind around.

Both men took seats opposite each other at the table, and while Jack could feel the Doctor studying him, he kept his gaze firmly on the table, barely lifting them to sip at his tea.

"How's your head?" the Doctor asked after a few moments of quiet. "Any problems?"

"No."

"Hmmm," said the Doctor, but didn't comment further. However much the Doctor was different in this life, there were still a number of similarities, including his gaze, which was as weighty and knowing as ever. Gathering his courage together, Jack looked up to meet the other man's eyes, held them, but still looked away first.

"I wouldn't have done it." What was it about the Doctor that made Jack constantly want to confess his sins? And as far as the Doctor was concerned, coming between himself and Rose was one of the major ones.

"Done what?" asked the Doctor calmly, a little curiously.

"Come between you and Rose. Even with all the mind games, I wouldn't have done it. I don't do that, Doctor – I don't break up marriages."

"Of course not," the Doctor answered promptly. "They can't force you to act, or even think things that are against your will. Or they can, but you'd never believe your own actions, and if they do it too many times it'd drive you mad; you'd snap because your concept of reality would be too different from the one presented to you. You're still Captain Jack Harkness – they can't make you be anyone else without ruining you."

"Great." The Doctor hadn't directly answered him, but he supposed that little speech said that he was trusted.

The following pause seemed to go on and on, Jack staring into his cup as the dark liquid rapidly cooled, the Doctor quietly sipping his tea. Now, could he get the Doctor to confess his sins without bringing up anything the Time Lord didn't want to feel accountable for, and avoid inducing a temper tantrum in doing so?

"Why did you leave me?" The question had been burning him since he had woken up with a reasonably clear idea of who and where he was.

The silence continued for a beat or two, and the eventual answer sounded as if it'd been dragged from the Doctor. "You were dead."

Well, that was true, but it still didn't make a lot of sense. "Then how am I alive?" Because that was the question that'd been bothering him for more than a year now.

"I don't know." The Doctor was lying, or at least concealing the truth. Jack had been trained in interrogation, and even after nine hundred years, and a personality change or two, the Doctor was not a complete blank wall, not to someone who loved him, not to Jack.

"You do," Jack accused, feeling the sting of betrayal once again. He'd died, and then somehow was alive again. He'd been left on a dead space station with piles of dust above a broken Earth. He'd been abandoned by the two people he'd thought never would. Rose was ... well, Rose couldn't be completely blameless, but at the same time, it was much harder to convince himself that she was the real problem here; even if she seemed to have more of an idea about him being alive.

"I don't have any proof, and it wouldn't be fair to say anything until I do."

"Not fair to who?"

"To Rose." There wasn't a lot Jack could say to that, because the Doctor wasn't going to do anything that he thought might hurt Rose. He'd changed, but once again, some things hadn't. Yet it still hurt, and Jack turned his attention back to his tea, not moving even when the Doctor stood and came to stand behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Jack. But I'm not sorry you're here."

Moments later the Doctor was gone. Jack didn't move for a long time.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	8. Ordinary Chapter 7b

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> … _and the for the rest…_

… _and the for the rest…_

-x-x-x-

Rose couldn't sleep. She was exhausted, but she couldn't relax enough to fall asleep. There was some part of her that felt that something was missing, and she thought that it probably was the Doctor. Even if it had only really been a few days, she still felt like it had been much, much longer that they'd been married. She could remember it all, even if it was starting to fade and she could pretty much always identify which memories were her real ones and which ones were induced. However her body seemed to have a little more difficulty adjusting; it remembered falling asleep to the Doctor every night for two years - usually after very good sex...

Deciding that no good was going to come from trying to get some rest she climbed out of bed, pulled on her robe and went in search of a drink and possibly the Doctor. There was still a question that was bothering her.

Jack was in the kitchen, staring into a cup of tea as though it might offer all the answers of the universe. Rose was familiar with the action; travelling with Doctor sometimes prompted the need to find answers, or even questions, in the strangest of places. She moved over and took Jack's cup out of his hands, making him blink up at her in surprise.

Rose grimaced. "It's cold!" she protested, her fingers curling around the cup, her nose crinkling in disgust. Without further thought she tipped Jack's tea down the sink, noticing the Doctor's favourite cup draining. She didn't say anything, but refilled the pot. While she was waiting for it to brew she turned around to look at Jack - they hadn't been alone together since waking, and the few brief moments they'd both been conscious in the same room had hardly been times for reunion. Now, though she took a good look at him; he hadn't changed much in the time she'd last seen him. Maybe a bit thinner, but then they all were thanks to the experiment, and there were maybe a couple more lines around his eyes and mouth, but only if you looked closely. The biggest change was in the way his shoulders slumped and his eyes were a little dull. Rose attributed it to exhaustion and hoped that was all it was.

He'd been studying her as hard as she'd been studying him, and when their gazes met again his lips curled up slightly, his whole posture lightening so that she could easily see her best friend. She rushed over to him and he stood, pulling her into a tight hug.

"I missed you so much!" she mumbled into his shoulder, and his arms gripped her almost painfully, but she was sure she was holding him just as tightly. The universe was filled with many amazing things, but Rose'd learned the hard way that the dead didn't just come back to life. She had Jack with her, and she didn't ever want to let him go again.

Lips pressed against the top of her head and she felt him trembling, felt the way her tears were making his shirt damp. It was a long, long time before either of them pulled away, and when they did, it wasn't only far enough to be able to look at each other again. Jack quickly pressed a hard kiss to her lips, but not before she could see the tears that marked his face.

"Missed you too," he told her and she heard the relief in his tone. Somehow she thought that he hadn't said the words to the Doctor, even if he meant them, but Jack's relationship with the Doctor had always been more complex than his with her. But then everything with the Doctor was more complex, it kind of went without saying.

She brushed at the drying tears on his cheeks, and he detached her fingers, bringing them to his lips and kissing the tips lightly. She'd missed this too, the way he touched. Sexual, yes, because so much about Jack was sexual, but not in the demanding, threatening, or even pleading way she'd get back home. It just was Jack.

Hugging him again, she pulled away to check on the tea, before her tears spilled over again. The pot had cooled considerably, but not enough for Rose to be bothered with making a new one, so she poured them both a cup. For a while she let herself be carried away listening to some of his stories about what he'd been doing since they'd seen each other last.

"Torchwood?" she asked, prompting a point he was glossing over in the middle of telling her what he'd been doing in Cardiff, 2007. That sounded familiar, but she couldn't work out where it was from.

"You don't want to know," Jack told her.

"Yeah, I do." Where had she heard it? Where? Where? Something to do with Queen Victoria pricked the back of her memory, but she couldn't say why just yet. She left it simmering and tried to question Jack further, but he was very close-lipped on what his job had been and just what Torchwood did. Of course that didn't seem to stop describing some of his bigger escapades to her in great (and probably exaggerated) detail.

Finally, he said goodnight, rinsed his cup and left without telling her anymore about Torchwood, but looking much more cheerful than she'd seen him yet. Rose was pleased, if a little frustrated, and not at all sleepy. There was still another mystery that needed solving.

She rinsed her own cup out and stacked all three in the dishwasher before trotting off in search of the Doctor.

-x-x-x-

Footsteps alerted the Doctor to Rose's approach, and it seemed that neither of his companions were going to get much sleep in the near future. Carefully he slid the piece of thin card he'd been turning over into his pocket, unsure of how much he was willing to share, even with Rose, about his past. She was so, so very important to him, and there were so very many things in that past that could scare her away, would scare most humans away.

"You should be asleep," he told her as she entered the control room, not looking up from where he was pretending to study the console.

"Can't sleep," she answered, coming up to stand beside him, looking directly at him. He kept his eyes off her.

"I can give you something for that if you like," he offered.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her grimace. "No thanks." She appeared to be thinking something over so he didn't say anything, just hoped that when she decided to ask it wasn't something he couldn't answer. After a moment she took his hand, lacing her warm fingers through his own, and leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Doctor," she said after a while, "who is Susan Foreman?"

He drew away from her sharply, putting some space between them. Speaking of questions he didn't want to answer...

Rose moved from one foot to another, clearly trying to decide whether or not to pursue her train of thought. With any luck, she'd drop it; but then she wouldn't be Rose Tyler if she didn't say anything.

"It's just that you were so desperate to remember her. I wondered..."

"She's no one. She doesn't exist." The name was just one she used to fit in, to make people think she was human. Well, Susan wasn't, but Foreman had been, after that junk yard the TARDIS had stayed in. Not that it mattered anymore, because name or no name, she really didn't exist, just like every other Gallifreyan.

"She was one of your people, wasn't she?" the ever-perceptible Rose asked. Gently, very gently, as if she was afraid he might break, that part of him certainly was objecting to. "Did she travel with you?"

The Doctor fought the urge to shake his head, because Rose would misinterpret the motion and he didn't ever want her to believe something untrue. About this anyway. Instead he drew in a deep breath and slid his hand into his pocket, removing the piece of card he'd put in there earlier, and holding it out to Rose, who took it and turned it over.

"She's my granddaughter."

It wasn't much. A grainy black and white school picture taken in bad light. Once he'd had several taken with superior technology from a thousand different worlds, from Gallifrey, from various periods on Earth. For some reason, this was the only one that had survived the Time War, this poor-quality photograph taken by a substandard photographer at Coal Hill School in 1963. But Susan had adored it.

Years later, after Susan was gone, after Ian and Barbara had returned home, he'd realised why. Susan loved the picture simply because it was a reminder of how happy she'd been. She'd loved going to school in 20th century London, loved her studies, the people she met, her teachers... It'd been the first placed they'd ever stayed more than a few weeks as well, and the first, possibly the only time he'd seen her both happy and young. Really, he'd been a terrible guardian - dragging his granddaughter all over time and space - and in the centuries since, he'd hardly improved.

His current companion, who had, if anything, gotten the worst deal out of everyone, was looking at him in the deepest sympathy. He knew that look, and knew it well, even if he hadn't seen it much since he regenerated. The expression that said she could see what he'd lost, and she hurt for him. She'd lost her world once too, even if he'd shown her afterwards that it wasn't really real, even if later he'd taken her and shown her that humans would go on in one way or another until the end of time. She'd held her father's hand as his life had trickled out of him. She'd watched her best friend explode in a ball of light to become someone else. The sympathy she felt was real and she reached out and grasped his hand again.

Still, in her eyes, he could see questions. 'Granddaughter' was such a powerful word, because it implied so very much. Granddaughter meant daughter, son, child, marriage, love, sex, family. Granddaughter meant that at some point he'd had an anchor, a place that was called home. Somewhere more than a planet, somewhere more than a TARDIS. Someone other than her.

 _I lost my entire family and you think it never occurred to me to go back and save them?_

He didn't want to tell her about Susan, about any of it. So when she didn't ask the questions, he didn't bother to elaborate.

Rose passed the picture back to him, and he slid it back into his pocket. "She's very pretty," she said. The words were meant as comfort but they were also honest. That was Rose, so very human in her need to reach out and touch the people around her that were hurting. He, on the other hand, fought the very Gallifreyan urge to lash out or back away.

 _How can you say that?_ He wanted to ask. _She was beautiful, but this picture doesn't begin to show that._ "Yes, she was."

"She's gone, isn't she?" Rose asked. "With the rest?"

He nodded. There was no point in explaining what had happened. It was enough that Rose knew about the Time War and the devastating effect it had had. She'd been there, stood on Satellite Five as they prepared for the Dalek's invasion of Earth, not knowing how many times he'd seen it before, not knowing how painfully close the situation had brought his memories of Susan. Then she'd stopped it all.

 _My Rose._ _My beautiful, brilliant Rose. You saved the world, and you saved it for me._

The possessiveness was nothing new. His desire for Rose was nothing new. The knowledge of what it might be like to give into both, however, was _entirely_ new. She'd been his _wife_. Completely his, as he was hers, and in many ways that was more attractive than even sex, because for the first time in a long while he'd belonged to someone.

And that was dangerous. Dangerous for everyone. But especially for Rose.

He could, would, and did love Rose. That wasn't an issue, would never be an issue, but he would never take it further than the deep friendship that they already shared. And he could live with that. Right now he was still suffering from the after-effects of the drugs and hypnosis that the Jenn had forced him through. Once he'd managed to purge it from his system it would be much easier for him.

Now he looked up into Rose's eyes and he didn't know what she saw, but she stepped closer to him and pulled him into her arms, holding him tightly against her. Despite all his reservations, he relaxed into the hug, wrapping his arms around her, and resting his head on top of hers. She smelled like the Rose he'd fallen asleep next to every night for two years.

So he kissed her. She relaxed into his arms completely, responding immediately and then deepening the kiss, opening her mouth and trying to encourage him to do the same. And he wanted to, like he'd wanted few things in his life, but he couldn't. Breaking this kiss, he stepped back, putting distance, air and hopefully some clarity between them.

"We can't do this, Rose," he said and heard the regret in his own voice.

"Then stop," she snapped. "Please stop doing this to me."

"It's not fair," he agreed.

Something must have changed in his expression or tone that he was unaware of, because Rose's face softened and she stepped closer to him, clearly intending on giving him another hug. He held up his hand and took half a step back, his legs bumping into the console. If she came any closer right now, if she touched him, he wasn't sure he would be able to stop himself from going further, and he needed to make sure that this never happened - for both their sakes. Hurt flickered through Rose's eyes and he cringed inwardly, but she was right, he couldn't keep sending her mixed signals, not until their relationship had settled back into something nearer to what it had been.

More to distract himself than with any real intent, he turned to the console and began checking readings. Rose came to stand beside him, close, but not quite touching, and he was grateful for that. As much as he wanted her to slip her hand into his, this was (slightly) less distracting.

"Where're we going?" she asked. And he took the opening she was handing him on a plate.

"Where do you want to go next?" he asked. "Past? Future? Earth? Halfway across the universe? To the edge of the stars? On the straight and narrow? Or off to the side - stop and smell the roses? Though I suppose you wouldn't need to, with a name like yours." He offered her his best smile, the one that tried to promise the wonders of the cosmos, despite usually ending up defeating the dangers of the cosmos instead.

She managed a smile in return, that was almost as bright as her usual one that appeared at the promise of adventure. "Future. Somewhere with good music."

And alcohol. Lots of alcohol, he decided. Enough to get even him good and drunk.

"Right of course – dancing. You like to dance! And who doesn't – dancing is so much fun!" He hid the wince, because of course there was dancing and then there was _dancing_ , and he knew it very well. If she was affected, though, he couldn't tell, and Rose wasn't one to hide her emotions. "We'll go in the morning."

"And then, can we go back to Earth - just for a bit. I just want to see my mum."

Of course she did. She'd believed her mother was dead and had been rather distraught by it. Her conscious mind telling her Jackie Tyler was dead and had been for years, her sub-conscious mind telling her that Jackie was meant to be alive. He was half-surprised that she hadn't wanted to go there first, to see her mother with her own eyes, before going anywhere else.

"You need only to ask, Rose, you know that," he told her sincerely. At least he hoped she did. He'd go anywhere she wanted, no matter what.

"Yeah," she said, then yawned. "I'd better go back to bed."

"'Night, Rose," he said obediently.

Much to his surprise, she stood up on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "'Night, Doctor." Then, dressing gown swirling behind her, she was off down the corridor, leaving him staring after her.

After a moment, he sprang into action. "Future. Music. Dancing. And alcohol, mustn't forget the alcohol."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


End file.
